Help Myself
by zennie
Summary: COMPLETE
1. Leaving Las Vegas

**Help Myself**  
  
All the usual disclaimers: I am owned by two cats who require much service, but me, I own nothing.  
  
This is titled after a Julia Fordham song, "I Can't Help Myself"  
  
"I can't help myself / Help myself / I'm lost in you"  
  
Summary: Shippy, but it doesn't end where it begins. Sara's leaving Las Vegas, but her past follows her.  
  
**Leaving Las Vegas**  
  
"What's this?" Grissom asked, holding up the envelope with a puzzled look.  
  
Sara gazed at him with the saddest expression he had ever seen on her face. She looked worn and tired; the dark circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, and worry lines, all recent, he knew, did nothing to diminish her beauty, but the spark in her eyes was gone. She looked hollow, emptied, and her voice when she spoke did nothing to dispel the impression. "Have you figured it out?"  
  
"What's in the envelope? No, otherwise, I wouldn't have asked." His voice is patient, quiet, and soft in his attempt to put her at ease.  
  
She shook her head. "No, not the envelope. We'll get to that later." She raised her head from where she had been studying the floor, "Have you figured out what to do about this?" The slight emphasis on the last word told him all he needed to know, and he exhaled audibly.  
  
"Sara..." he began.  
  
She cut off his explanation. "It's a yes or no question, not an essay. Have you?"  
  
He saw the pain and anguish in her dark eyes, and he knew he had caused much of it. He had hoped, someday, to be able to be the person to make her happy. All of his rationales aside, he had invited her to Las Vegas simply to be closer to her, to see her everyday instead of talking to her on the phone. He had wanted her, as friend and colleague, but once she got here, he had realized his mistake. His feelings were beyond friendship, but he was powerless to act on them. Had been powerless to act on them for years, and while he had suffered because of it, the real toll had been taken on Sara. And still, he was unable to act.  
  
"No." He saw her eyes close and her jaw clench as she absorbed the pain, and he wanted to take her in his arms and make all that go away. But he had never known what to do about love, even though he had agonized over it for the last two years.  
  
When she opened her eyes, Sara nodded her head, as if she had anticipated his answer. And she had. "Then I have." He knew what was going to happen next, a scene he had relived over and over again to try break himself out of the avoidance pattern he had been in. "My resignation is in the envelope. I've leaving."  
  
"Sara... Is there anything...?"  
  
Her quiet laughter stopped him. "The chance to convince me to stay expired about three minutes ago." Her gaze froze him to his chair when he opened his mouth to speak again. "Gil." She had never used his first name, and it felt like a knife in his gut as his name came out as a cry of anguish, and not love or passion, as he had once imagined. "Let me go. Please. I can't... do this anymore. I've waited but I can't, not anymore."  
  
He nodded his understanding. If he couldn't make her happy, at least he could stop making her so sad. "Can you stay until we get a replacement?"  
  
"You have two weeks," she said, with a finality that made his heart stop. "I start my new job in a month."  
  
"FBI?"  
  
She shook her head. "Back to San Francisco."  
  
His brows knitted. "San Francisco? But the lab is clearly inferior, in every way. Solve rate, equipment... At least look at some federal labs, where your expertise will be valued."  
  
The smile on her face was the first genuine one he had seen for a while. "Actually, that's why they want me. I'm going to be the second shift supervisor."  
  
"Congratulations," he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat. "We'll miss you." She nodded, again as if she anticipated his response, and turned. "Sara?" She turned back. "I'll miss you." Then she was gone and he sat in his office in silence for a long, long time.  
  
------------  
  
Catherine walked down the hall, mentally kicking herself for walking into such a personal moment for both Grissom and Sara, and not leaving as soon as she realized what was happening. Everyone knew about Grissom and Sara in the lab; it had been hard not to, they way they acted around at each other when Sara first arrived and the recent tension and angst between them recently. It was also clear that they never acted on their feelings, and while most of the people at the lab had watched with some degree of concern, they had also silently supported the two getting together, secretly wanting them to be happy. But now, it was over, and while Catherine was sorry to see Sara go, she hoped Sara would be happy again. Catherine paused outside the break room, sighed and ran a hand through her hair, before plastering a smile on her face and walking briskly in.  
  
Everyone looked up and said hi, but Catherine only had eyes for Sara, who was curled up on a couch reading a forensic journal. While she looked sad, Catherine could see the strain which had pulled the features of her face into a permanent scowl has lessen, eased, as if making the decision to go had lifted a burden from her shoulders.  
  
"Hey Cath," Nick called, "have you seen Grissom? He's late again."  
  
Catherine started to reply when Sara interrupted her, "He, um, might be dealing with some paperwork. Guys, I have something to tell you." All eyes were on her now as she quietly told them the news. "I gave my notice. I'm leaving."  
  
"You're leaving?" Nick looked heartbroken. "Why?"  
  
"Job opportunity, too good to pass up."  
  
"But," Nick sputtered, genuinely upset. Warrick, meanwhile, caught more of the subtext of her words, and walked over to her and enveloped her in a big hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations, Sara." He held her in the hug for a few more minutes, gazing down at her. "We're going to miss you," he said, unintentionally echoing Grissom's words, and her eyes filled with tears. "But some lab is going to be very lucky to have you." They shared a laugh as Sara blinked away the tears.  
  
Nick caught her in a bear hug as soon as Warrick let go. "I'm going to miss you," he said quietly, in his soft Texas drawl. "It won't be the same around here without you." He kissed her forehead, and rested his chin against hers. "Your constant caterwaul... I mean singing, and... ouch!" He pulled away, rubbing his shoulder where Sara had punched him, and they shared a grin. He got serious again, "You'll be missed."  
  
Catherine pushed him away, saying, "My turn." She looked at Sara with an ironic smile. "I know we're not exactly the hugging type, but..." She pulled Sara into a tight embrace and whispered, "Be happy," before kissing her lightly on the cheek. The look they shared told Sara Catherine understood all the reasons she was leaving, and she whispered 'thanks' back.  
  
Grissom cleared his throat from the doorway. "I'm guessing you've heard Sara's news? Well, she's still with us for the next two weeks, so there's plenty of time for hugs." He smiled to take the sting out of his gruff tone, and resolved to plan the best going-away dinner for her, before giving out assignments. "Catherine, you and Warrick have a 419..." 


	2. Old Friends, Bitter Enemies

**Old friends, Bitter Enemies**  
  
"Yeah?" Sara's voice sounded so tinny on the speaker the receptionist was talking into, but an edge of aggravation was evident.  
  
"Somebody's here for a consultation."  
  
Sara's sigh was audible. "Can you have someone escort them up? I'll fill out the paperwork to get them badges later."  
  
They heard Sara's voice before they saw her. "Does Oakland even do their own instigations anymore?" she asked, to a round a laughter. As they peered in the door to what looked like a break room, Sara's back was to them, but two young CSIs were facing the door, and one said, "Looks like Oakland's got some new people."  
  
Sara turned toward the door, her dark hair flipping around, but the smile on her face disappearing the moment she registered the guests standing at the door. Emotions flickered in her eyes, surprise, anger, and confusion, but happiness too, and Catherine read the situation clearly and glared up at Gil. He hadn't called Sara and told her we were coming, she realized, and saw out of the corner of her eye that Sara had the same glare leveled at Grissom. Sara recovered quickly, though, and hopped up from her chair, embracing the shorter woman in a tight hug. "Catherine." She turned to Grissom and extended her hand, "Gil. Good to see you both. What brings you, so unexpectedly," the last word said with her eyes fixed on Gil, "to my city?"  
  
"A case," he replied simply, tapping a file folder in his hands. It took him a moment to register the changes, but they were apparent. The dark circles and worry lines were gone, and she had put on weight. She looked happy, he thought, feeling the pain in his heart to know that she was happier and better without him. "We need your help. Our monthly cold case review came up with a hit on a recent homicide you caught."  
  
"You could have just faxed me the files," she said, taking the folder from Grissom's hand and skimming through the contents. "The Mira case?" she said, talking mostly to herself.  
  
He blushed, knowing his next request went beyond professional courtesy. "Actually I was hoping to see the scene and go over the evidence myself." When she looked up at him with narrowed eyes, he explained quickly. "It's an 8-year old case and all I have are the files. I thought it would help if I saw the scene, it might help bring back more."  
  
"So Sid, are you going to introduce us?" asked the blond CSI sitting in the break room, interrupting them. A young brunette sitting beside him gave him a look of disgust. "Jeremy, if you paid any attention at all, you wouldn't need introductions." She stepped up to Catherine and shook her hand. "Dr. Willows, I enjoyed your presentation at the Science and the Law conference last year. It's a pleasure to meet you." Catherine's mouth quirked into a smile at the young, earnest CSI in front of her, and she didn't have the heart to correct her on the title. "Thank you. And you are?"  
  
"Annemarie Jennings." The brunette turned to Gil. "And Dr. Grissom. It's an honor." He shook her hand. "Thank you, Ms. Jennings. It's nice to meet you."  
  
Sara's wide grin was amused and proud. "Um, Annemarie, could you go get the assignments off my board?" As Annemarie left, Sara introduced the rest of her team. "Jeremy, Jerome, and Kesha."  
  
"Let me get them going and then we'll discuss your case, ok?" She turned back to her team without waiting for a reply, taking the slips from Annemarie, just as a loud voice interrupted her.  
  
"Sidle. You bitch. What did you tell her?" Gil and Catherine looked at the tall man in alarm, but Sara reached him and caught his forearm. "This is not the place to have this discussion," she told him, tersely. "Why don't we do this in my office."  
  
He ripped his arm out of her grasp, and that's when Catherine noticed the badge clipped to his belt. "I spoke with the captain. I've been busted back to patrol supervisor." He took a step closer and poked a finger at Sara violently. "Because of you."  
  
"You want to do this here, Phillips?" Her voice was angry but controlled. "You got it. First, it's a lateral move, not a demotion. And you caused it, not me."  
  
"I saw all that paperwork you gave the captain. What, were you collecting that on me the whole time?" He was still towering over her, a hard feat to accomplish, and Catherine felt Grissom tense as if to move. She caught his wrist and squeezed, shooting him a look that tried to convey how unprofessional it would be for him to step in. For once, he understood without a word, and stood watching, his arm shaking in her grasp.  
  
"Yes," was Sara's cool reply, but her voice grew more angry as she continued. "You know why I was brought in, and you know I had the captain's approval for all the changes I made. I kept you informed and gave you EVERY opportunity to work with me, not against me. And I sat in my office after every shift and documented every time you pulled my CSIs from a scene before they were done and every other attempt you made to undermine me. Because when an incident like last week happened, I knew Captain Harris would come to me for an explanation. And I was not going to hide the fact that you were the problem. Not when it showed poorly on the professionalism of myself and my CSIs. You have no one to blame by yourself," she finished coldly.  
  
He punched the wall beside her head and tried to trap her against the wall with his body, and both Catherine and Grissom started forward. Sara's voice stopped them. "Walk away, Phillips. Going back to patrol will be the least of your problems if you are arrested for assault." Her reasonable tone seemed to break through his anger a little. "If you leave now, then we'll forget this ever happened. If not, then building security will remove you and it will go on the incident blotter."  
  
He pulled back, still glaring at her. "This isn't over, Sidle."  
  
"Actually, I think it is," was her quiet rejoinder. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared around a corner before letting out a long breath, and turning to see everyone staring at her.  
  
"Well, that went better than I expected," Jerome announced loudly, only to be smacked by Annemarie. "Not funny." His voice was serious as he replied, "It wasn't meant to be." The young CSIs were shuffling back into the break room. "He's the kind of guy to go postal." "Yeah, good riddance." "Who wants to bet the second shift detectives buy Sid a bouquet by the end of shift?" "Naw, it'll take them until the start of next shift at the earliest."  
  
Sara smirked at the shocked and worried looks Catherine and Gil shot her as she came up beside them. "Office politics," she quipped, but her eyes looked concerned.  
  
"And here I thought Ecklie was bad," Catherine snorted.  
  
Sara laughed. "Let me get these guys going and then we'll go over to the scene you want to check out, ok?"  
  
Catherine watched with interest as Sara put her team to work. Sara's people skills had always been one of her weaknesses, or so everyone assumed, but Sara was much more at ease with 'her' CSIs than Catherine had ever seen before. She divvied up the assignments, before turning to the very young- looking blonde sitting at her side. "Jeremy, you are doing a training lead on this one. Annemarie will be your backup. Call the shots, but listen to her if she makes any corrections. We'll have a performance review at the end of shift, ok?" They both nodded seriously, before she addressed the whole team. "I'll be visiting a crime scene first, and then I'll be roaming, so expect to see me looking over your shoulders at any time." A round of grins and nervous chuckles rounded the table. "We've had six tight shifts. Get through tonight and you know the deal. Clear?"  
  
Kesha piped up. "What are we up to now?"  
  
Jerome grinned across the table at her. "Dinner out. And I think it should be a fancy restaurant. Am I right?" There was a general consensus of agreement around the table as he winked at Sara, who Catherine could see had a teasing look on her face. "What, there's something fancier than Subway?" She asked in a mock-innocent voice, and then chuckled as the four CSIs engaged in some good-natured grumbling. She swatted at Jeremy, who leaned just out of her reach. "Those crime scenes won't process themselves. Get out of here, you bums." 


	3. Scenes of Crimes

**Scenes of Crimes**  
  
Catherine checked her watch for the third time in the last half hour. Gil was still happily looking around the scene, but Catherine was getting worried. Sara had run out to check in on her team, but she was now at least thirty minutes late. "Gil? Don't you think Sara should have been back by now to pick us up?" she asked, but all she got was a grunt in reply. He was reviewing the case files and flicking his flashlight around the bedroom. Catherine rolled her eyes, and pulled out her cell. The voice that answered sounded startled, and it definitely wasn't Sara's. "Sara?" the unknown male on the phone asked.  
  
"No, this is Catherine. Who's this? Is Sara there?"  
  
"This is Jeremy. The phone was on the ground near where Sara was parked earlier and I thought maybe she dropped it." Catherine heard his sharp intake of breath and her stomach plummeted. She heard him yell for Annemarie while she called his name into the phone. Gil had come up behind her and was looking at her questioningly as she tried to get a response. She shook her head and listened intently as she heard Annemarie and Jeremy speaking urgently just out of the pickup, so she could only recognize a few words. Finally, an audible voice spoke into the phone, just as Catherine thought she was about to start screaming.  
  
"Catherine? This is Annemarie. Are you still at your scene? Is Sara with you?"  
  
"Yes, we're here, and no, Sara isn't with us. What's going on?"  
  
"Sara left here at least 45 minutes ago. But her phone's here." Catherine read the silence. "And?" she questioned. "Her gun, badge, and pager are here too." The concern in Annemarie's voice was controlled, but Catherine could sense a growing fear in her words. "I'm sending a patrol car to your location to pick you up and bring you here. See you soon."  
  
Catherine clicked the phone shut and turned to Gil. "We need to pack up and wait downstairs for a patrol car," she told him quietly.  
  
His eyebrows knitted alarmingly over his eyes, and he swallowed hard before asking, "What's happened? Where's Sara?"  
  
Catherine saw the panic rising, and there was nothing she could say to reassure him, or stop her own fear. "We don't know." She heard a siren coming toward them. "Gil?" Catherine caught his hand and pulled him toward the door. "We're going to the scene she was just at. We'll know more then, ok?" She spoke as if she were talking to a child as he went pale with shock and stood there, resisting her pull. "Come on, we have to go." He finally obeyed, and followed her out the door.  
  
-----------  
  
Jeremy was photographing a small pile of items when they arrived. Gil had come around, and he immediately got out and went over to the square of yellow tape, checking the scene with his flashlight. Annemarie was listening intently to a radio, before snapping. "Secure the scene. We're on our way." She caught Catherine's look, and explained, "Patrol just found Sara's car."  
  
"Can I...?"  
  
Annemarie read her thoughts and nodded. "Come on." She made eye contact with Jeremy, who nodded and kept working the scene, as the two women dashed off. It was only a short, ten-minute ride, but Catherine's heart was pounding out of her chest by the time she saw the blue-and-red lights flashing ahead. The official navy sedan Sara had dropped them off in sat in an alley, surrounded by officers. She jumped out and immediately yelled, "Who's touched what?" before realizing that this was Annemarie's scene to work. She looked over at the younger CSI, who gave her a bleak grin and nodded, before moving to photograph the ground by the driver's side door. A few of the officers gave her a strange look, but she plowed on, "Talk to me, people."  
  
An officer volunteered that he had walked over and looked in the window to confirm it was empty, and then secured the area. "Nothing else?" He shook his head. "Good." She took in the scene and walked toward the car, noting the car keys lying in the debris near the rear of the car. Her breath caught as she snapped back to the officers standing there. "Did anyone check the trunk?" In response to her unspoken command, a patrolwoman ran forward and punched the trunk lock and stepped back so Catherine could see as the lid popped open. Sara's bruised and bloody face was the first thing Catherine saw, shining palely in the glow of her light, and she felt her knees begin to buckle as she stepped forward and stretched out a shaking hand to check the pulse. Her heart stopped in her chest for a second, until she felt a weak beat under her fingertips. "EMTs. Now," she commanded the officer in a voice she barely recognized as her own.  
  
"Sara." Annemarie's voice was strangled in her throat as she stepped closer, before Catherine stopped her. "Don't disturb the evidence." The young CSIs eyes turned to her, hate-filled at what Catherine knew was her seeming coldness, but Catherine stared her down. "If we want to find out who did this to her, we have to work this scene properly." The staring contest continued for just a few moments before Annemarie broke contact, biting her lip and nodding slightly. Catherine pointed down at the keys. "Photograph the exterior and bag the evidence. Then get this car towed to your garage so we can rip it apart."  
  
The paramedics had Sara out of the trunk, and it looked like she had been badly beaten. Catherine's hand balled into a fist, and she let out a shaky breath, before noticing Annemarie watching her with the same flat angry expression she knew was on her face. "What about..." her eyes glanced to the right, at where the EMTs were working, and Catherine swallowed hard. "I'll process the... victim," she said, closing her eyes as she said the last word.  
  
Annemarie nodded again. "Take my kit. I'll have Jeremy meet me here and we'll share." Catherine reached up and squeezed the young CSI's shoulder briefly before following the stretcher back to the ambulance.  
  
----------------  
  
The doctor was giving her report and Catherine tried to listen. She caught, "multiple blows to the head and body with a blunt object," "unconscious," "swelling of the brain," and "no sign of any sexual assault," but the rest was drowned out by static that seemed to fill her head and rendered her unable to concentrate. Finally, she snapped out of it when she realized the doctor had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly. "Any idea how long she'll be unconscious?" The doctor pursed her lips, and then shook her head sadly. "We don't know. The longer it goes on..." She shrugged. "We'll be monitoring her. If the swelling gets worse, we'll have to operate."  
  
Catherine picked up her kit. "I had better," she said, nodding toward the door to finish her sentence. She steeled herself as she stepped over the threshold, and looked at Sara. The blood had been wiped away, making the dark bruises stand out against her pale skin even more clearly. One marred her smooth cheek, and three others mottled her arms, but the worst were unseen, hidden by her hair. The kit was open and she was scraping under Sara's fingernails as the years of professional practice took over. She managed to get photographs of the bruises, including the three on her shoulders and back which showed a clear imprint of the object used in the beating, and she managed to get everything packed away before her professional facade cracked. Catherine wasn't sure how long she sat there, clutching Sara's hand with both of her own, breathing hard to keep the sobs under control, when Annemarie cleared her voice behind her.  
  
"Catherine? I'm sorry to disturb you. I need to get these samples sent out to the lab." Catherine nodded as the brunette picked up the evidence bag, and turned to go.  
  
"Wait. What do you mean, sent out?"  
  
Annemarie sighed in frustration. "We lost our funding for an internal lab tech last year, so we have to send all of our samples out to a central lab for processing." She indicated the bag in her hand. "It'll take at least 48 hours to get these back, even with a rush on them, so I want to get them in quick."  
  
Catherine's mouth dropped. "48 hours?"  
  
"Yeah. Sara's trying to get the line reinstated, but it can't become a budget item until next year. Until then, we're stuck with this."  
  
Catherine already had her cell out as she brushed past Annemarie. "Don't leave. I'll be right back." As soon as she hit the pavement, she was on the phone to the lab. "Greg? I want you in San Francisco immediately. Get a patrol car to drive you to the airport and get the first available flight. Flash your badge if you have to. Yes, I'll reimburse you. I'll call Warrick and Brass to explain. Are you out the door yet? No, I'll explain everything when you get here. Call me from the airport to tell me your flight information, ok? Thanks." She hung up the phone and rolled her head on her shoulders, giving Greg a couple of minutes to get out the door before calling Warrick and Nick. "Warrick? Is Nick there with you? Is Brass around? Yeah, put me on speaker phone."  
  
When she returned to the room, Annemarie was sitting beside the bed and seemed to be telling Sara the status of the investigation. Catherine watched the interaction from the door, smiling a little to herself at the young CSI's obvious case of hero worship as she debated what Sara would recommend as the next move. "I think she would say, get back to the lab and start processing the evidence." Annemarie looked up, her embarrassment evident, even in the face of Catherine's teasing tone. "I've called in a favor and we'll have a lab tech here in three to four hours." Catherine settled back into her seat and took Sara's hand again. "In the meantime, we can still run the prints and start tearing up that car."  
  
"We?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm here. I might as well help." They sat in silence for a few moments, watching Sara's still figure. "Did she...?" Catherine squeezed Sara's hand in hers, hard, as they saw her twitch on the bed, and she thought she felt a slight pressure in response. Afraid she was imagining it, Catherine leaned over, brushing a few stray hairs off her forehead, and whispered, "Sara, honey?" She saw another twitch. "Sara?"  
  
Sara's mouth opened and Catherine thought she heard her name in the faint whisper."Get the doctor," she told Annemarie before turning back to Sara. "Sara, honey, can you open your eyes for me?" Her eyelids fluttered a couple of times before staying open. Sara had a hard time focusing them, before her eyes rolled back again and she lapsed back into unconsciousness. The doctor ordered her out, then, and finally joined them a few moments later in the hallway. "That's a good sign. We're taking her for another CAT scan now to be sure, but I think the swelling is already receding. If so, then I feel very confident she'll make a full recovery. But I'm about to put her on some medication that will put her to sleep for a few hours, so there's nothing much you can do here."  
  
Catherine caught Annemarie's eye. "Get the evidence bag. We can use the time to process the car, so maybe we can have a present for Sara when she wakes up." Annemarie grinned like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, and got the bag before hustling Catherine out of the hospital and back to the lab. 


	4. Life and Limbs

Life and Limbs  
  
A short, compact woman with graying blonde in a black pantsuit and grey silk shirt barreled toward Catherine and Annemarie as they made their way through the lab. Catherine heard Annemarie whisper, "Shit," under her breath as the woman blocked their way. "Annemarie, what's going on? And is this the person who was ordering around the PD on a scene earlier?"  
  
Annemarie physically cowered in front of the much shorter woman. "Ma'am, Dr. Sidle was assaulted during shift by an unknown assailant and we are making every effort to..."  
  
"Actually, we may have a very good idea of who the assailant is," Catherine cut in smoothly, stopping what she suspected was a long, disjointed, yet very proper, ramble on the part of the young CSI. "Catherine Willows. Las Vegas Crime Lab." She held out her hand, coolly taking over the conversation.  
  
"Captain Mel Harris, SFPD." She shook Catherine's hand, visibly mulling over something Catherine had said. "Vegas, huh?" She jerked her head back, indicating Catherine should walk with her. "What do you mean, you have a good idea of the assailant?"  
  
"Well, it's either an unknown, which is highly unlikely given she was abducted during a short visit to an active crime scene under the noses of at least two patrol officers, or it's the officer who threaten Sara about two hours before she was found. An officer..." "Phillips," Annemarie supplied reluctantly.  
  
The captain stopped short. "He came here?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Right before shift started. He had a verbal confrontation with Dr. Sidle regarding the incident last week, ma'am."  
  
Harris glanced at Catherine. "And why are you here?"  
  
"Dr. Grissom and I were up conferring with Dr. Sidle on a possible serial murder case involving our jurisdictions and examining a crime scene when the call came in." The captain nodded her head, and started to turn back to Annemarie when Catherine asserted, "Captain Harris. I think I should run the investigation."  
  
"What?" She swung back to Catherine, dumbfounded by her audacity. "You're not even a part of this department."  
  
"Exactly." Harris caught her meaning, but Catherine spelled it out anyway. "The chief suspect in the assault is one of your own, with the motive possibly work-related. I'm not involved in the departmental politics, so I have a fair chance of being seen as impartial."  
  
"But you worked with Sara for several years, so I wouldn't call you impartial," she replied doubtfully.  
  
"Nobody investigating the case at this point is impartial." Catherine shrugged. "But I'm a scientist, not a vigilante, and I'm far enough removed. Besides, you need someone on this investigation who can't be intimidated professionally by their lack of seniority in the department."  
  
Harris's mouth twisted into a ghost of a grin. "I can see why Sara always talks about you with such respect, Willows." She glanced at Annemarie, considering. "Ok, you got it. I'll fix it downtown. You just find out who did this." She pulled out a holder and passed Catherine her card. "Keep me informed."  
  
-------------  
  
Gil was sitting in Sara's office, on the couch that Catherine knew was Sara's home away home on many nights, staring at the pictures on her walls. Catherine sat beside and took his hand. "Sara woke up for a few moments. The doctors are confident in her recovery." He didn't say anything, didn't even react to her presence, and Catherine cast a worried glance at him.  
  
He finally swept a hand to indicate the pictures on her walls. A few were Ansel Adams prints, but there were many black-and-white photos of the desert and mountains surrounding Las Vegas. "Did you know she was into photography?" he asked, quietly, his eyes moving from one photo to the other restlessly. "For all the overtime she put in, when did she get the time to go hiking and take all these?"  
  
She shook her head, sadly. "I don't know."  
  
"I never knew her at all."  
  
"Gil, she's going to be ok."  
  
"All those years, I thought I knew her so well, but I never knew her at all. Beautiful, aren't they?" His expression was distraught as he contemplated the photos in another long silence.  
  
"Gil. Do you want to go to the hospital and sit with her? You can pick up a crossword and keep her company while she sleeps." He smiled one of his distracted smiles, the one he gave to people when he was listening but thinking on much larger issues, and then nodded. She filled him in quickly on what else was going on, and she braced for him to tell her she overstepped, but he just whispered his approval as she directed Jeremy to make sure he picked up a crossword and got to Sara's hospital room before heading to the airport to wait for Greg.  
  
She joined the other members of the team in break room and got updated on the case. Jerome and Kesha looked at her with suspicion as she took over the meeting, but she didn't have the patience to coddle them, so she settled for brusquely assigning them work, which consisted of running the prints through AFIS and going through Sara's clothes for any other trace elements.  
  
Annemarie looked up from the trunk where she was lifting a print. "I'm going to run these up to Jerome," she said, indicating the many prints she had collected. Catherine grunted from where she was bent over the front seat, collecting hair from the headrest. Her beeper vibrated against her hip. "That's Greg. Can you bring him down here when you come back so I can fill him in?" She twisted back around in the seat and rubbed her temples wearily. They had collected a ton of trace from the vehicle, but she knew most of it would come up Sara's. And even a print from the car would only prove that Phillips had been in or around the car at some point, an easy assumption considering the car was issued out of a general pool. Even though she knew in her gut that Phillips had done this, proving it would be the hard part. Unless Sara could ID him, the evidence would have to put him in the car at the time Sara was attacked and make it airtight to put away a cop. Think, think, think, she commanded herself as she tried loosen the muscles in her neck.  
  
Greg followed Annemarie into the garage, blinking in the harsh overhead glare of the fluorescents. The annoyance on his face drained as she related the entire story to him, to be replaced with anger. She related the difficulties it would take to bust another cop, and told him to get started on the fingernail scrapings first. "I think she scratched her assailant in the attack."  
  
"Good," Greg nodded approvingly. "Do we have a sample from the cop to run against it?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, not yet. I want to get something on him before we haul him in and tip our hand. Something concrete," she mused as something teased the edge of her mind. Suddenly her head snapped up, and she curled her mouth into a fierce grin. "Annemarie, he punched the wall. Do you remember where?"  
  
"Oh yeah," she replied, grinning herself. "I'll go scrape some epithelials now." She grabbed Greg's arm and dragged him after her, "Come on, Greg, no time for dawdling."  
  
Kesha appeared in their wake, reporting that some of the prints from the car, especially around the trunk area, were a match with Phillips and to deliver the crime scene photos. She nodded her appreciation of the young woman's efforts. "It's circumstantial at best since we can't prove exactly when the prints were left, but we'll bury him with evidence."  
  
"Sid says that all the time," Kesha told her, as they spread the photos over the hood and looked them over. Kesha tapped the photos Catherine took of the bruises on Sara's back. "That's a weird shape. What do you think that is?" Catherine gazed at the vaguely familiar shape as Kesha suggested a pipe or wrench half-heartedly.  
  
"Kesha? Why do you call Sara 'Sid'?"  
  
"It kind of evolved into her nickname. Dr. Sidle was too formal, Sara, even though she insisted we call her that, was too informal. The PD called her Sidle, and we called her that for a while, but then Jerome started calling her Sid, and it stuck." She grinned sheepishly, "I guess it's no more formal than Sara, but I think she likes it." She glanced down at the photos again, and her eyes widened. She reached over and unsnapped her service sidearm, flipping it over to compare the butt plate to the impressions in the photos, before meeting Catherine's eye with an excited look.  
  
Greg cleared his throat behind them. "And we have a winner in the epithelials sweepstakes. The DNA from under Sara's fingernails is a match to the epithelials from the wall. I, um, still have a lot more samples to analyze, but I thought you'd want to know."  
  
Annemarie appeared in the doorway behind Greg. "Do we have enough?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Catherine nodded. "Call the detective on the case and get a warrant. It's time we had a chat with officer Phillips."  
  
-------------  
  
"CSIs don't sit in on interrogations," the IAB detective protested angrily, as the union representative nodded his agreement and glared at her. Catherine surveyed the room, thinking to herself that there was the possibility of testosterone poisoning in this environment. Luckily, she knew how to handle herself in these situations, and she smiled sweetly, "I'm not sitting in. I'm simply collecting evidence as specified by my warrant."  
  
"Evidence? What evidence?" The union rep demanded angrily.  
  
She ignored him. "Officer Phillips, do you want your lawyer before we begin?"  
  
"Lawyer? What for? I have nothing to hide," he sneered. He turned to his rep, "Who is this? She's not one of our CSIs."  
  
"Special investigator brought in for this case."  
  
Phillips sniffed in anger. "Another one of Captain Harris's bitches, you mean." He met her eyes and sneered again, to see her reaction to his jibe.  
  
Catherine's smile grew even wider. "Actually, Officer Phillips, I'm your worst nightmare."  
  
"Oh yeah? What's that?"  
  
"I'm the bitch who's going to put you away for assaulting a fellow officer." She let her words register for a moment, before winking at him. "Now strip." The union rep sputtered as the IAB detective and Phillips looked outraged. She handed the warrant to the union rep. "It's right there in the warrant. I need a sample of his DNA, his sidearm, and a full body exam. With photos." As the rep and Phillips looked over the warrant for themselves, she snapped on gloves and pulled out a swab. "Open up." He balked at first, until the rep nodded. She then extended her hand and waved her fingers in his face. "Your sidearm." He made no movement to comply. "I haven't got all night. Your sidearm." He took in the rest of the table and saw no help on the faces of his fellow officers, so he sighed and unclipped his holster, tossing it at her. "Thanks," she said sweetly as she bagged it. "Now," she pulled out her camera and rested it on her shoulder, "strip." He finally looked defeated, and he started to take off his shirt. Catherine noticed the scratches on his forearm immediately, and as she photographed them, she noticed something embedded in one deep furrow. "Hold still," she commanded as she pulled a small piece of a torn fingernail from the groove, She swabbed the scratches as well, before telling him he could get dressed. She paused at the door as she was leaving, "Now, Officer Phillips, you might want to rethink calling your lawyer before I get back."  
  
Barely fifteen minutes later, she knocked on the door and entered, grinning in triumph. She spoke quietly to the detective for a moment, before sitting down across from Phillips. "Remember what I said about your worst nightmare? Your DNA is a match to that collected from under Dr. Sidle's fingernails from where she scratched your arm. And that bit of fingernail from your scratch matches her DNA. A fiber taken from the butt of your gun matches that of Dr. Sidle's clothing, and there are traces of her DNA on your weapon as well. Your fingerprints are on the car where she was left for dead. And this is just what we have so far. We're still processing the remainder of the evidence."  
  
He glared at her. "That's a lie. I know you have to send samples out to the lab, and there's a 48-hour turn around on DNA tests. You're trying to trick me."  
  
"Ah, so that's why you didn't immediately clean your gun. I wondered about that. Actually, we had a DNA specialist working this shift with us. The results are real, although we'll be sure to double-check them through the usual lab," She nodded to the detective, who promptly informed Phillips he was under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder, as she leaned back in her chair and smirked at him as he was lead out.  
  
The IAB detective who had watched the proceedings with a mixture of disgust and grudging respect finally met her eye as the door closed behind Phillips. "Maybe it doesn't hurt to have a CSI in an interrogation sometimes." 


	5. Candy Stripers

**Candy Stripers**  
  
Catherine paused in the doorway, viewing the scene in Sara's hospital room with amusement. Gil had forsaken the crossword to read Shakespeare aloud to a still unconscious Sara, reading the lines with a dramatic flair and sense of timing that Catherine would have anticipated. MacBeth. Catherine shook her head at his choice. He couldn't have picked a comedy? Something a little lighter someone in hospital? Catherine guessed Sara should be lucky he didn't pick a book of Zen philosophy. She edged into the room, so Gil could see her, and he finished the monologue he had been reading. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. "You ok?" Catherine asked as he took off his reading glasses to rub his eyes.  
  
"Yeah. Sara's eyelids flickered a few times, but she didn't completely wake up, so I was reading so she had something to listen to." His convoluted logic made her smile softly; she had never seen anything shake Gil to the core like this night had. The change registered in his eyes, in the weary way he took everything in, as if he couldn't get his bearings. Lost. He looked lost, his faith in his decisions and course shaken in some fundamental way. The burden that Catherine had seen lifted from Sara's shoulders after she had made the decision to leave had settled firmly on his shoulders. He figured out what Sara meant to him after all, and Catherine was afraid it was too late.  
  
"Gil, you look like hell. I'm going to get us a couple of cups of coffee," she said, reluctant to observe his pain.  
  
He hoisted himself out of the chair and rotated his head on his neck "No, I'll go. I've been sitting too long – I need to stretch my legs." He stuck his head back in the room a second after he left to add, "Oh, and good work on the case."  
  
Catherine settled into the chair he had just left, leaning up onto the bed to brush Sara's hair back from her forehead, lost in thought. It was amazing to her how someone could be so blind, and so cautious. Sara had been so devoted and so willing to do anything, and Gil did nothing with it; Catherine would have cheerfully given a limb for Eddie to been like that to her, considerate and caring. So lucky, and yet so blind, and he just realizes that now.  
  
"Hey," Sara choked out of her parched throat. Catherine started; she had been so lost in thought she hadn't noticed Sara waking up.  
  
"Hey you," she replied softly, still running her fingers through Sara's dark hair in a soothing gesture. She noticed Sara's eyes were actually focusing and she seemed groggy but alert. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Ouch?" The word was barely more than a croak, but her dark eyes glittered with her characteristic wit, and Catherine smiled in response. "Ouch might be a bit of an understatement. You gave us quite a scare, young lady," she said, mock-lecturing. Sara tried to laugh, but ended up coughing. After getting her to drink some water, Catherine settled Sara back against the pillows again. Her eyes closed again and Catherine thought she was going back to sleep until she asked, "What happened?"  
  
"Do you remember anything?"  
  
"Bits, pieces" She rubbed her thumb on one of the bruises on her arms, obviously surprised by the defensive wounds. "Nothing like this" she said absently as she gazed at her arm, her expression clouded as she tried to remember.  
  
"Some memory loss is to be expected," Catherine said gently. "You sustained some head trauma as well as injuries to your arms and body. You were actually very lucky," she stroked the bruise on Sara's cheek softly, "You have a spectacular bruise here, but your cheekbone wasn't broken, and none of the major organs were damaged. Concussion was bad, with some secondary swelling, but they didn't have to operate." Sara listened to the catalog of her injuries impassively, like the scientist she was, trying to put the experience into a rational framework. It seemed to work so long as she didn't look down at her arms and see the actual evidence. When she did that, she felt an odd rolling feeling in the pit of her stomach, like something was crawling around in her gut looking to claw its way out.  
  
"Who? How?" She wasn't sure she really wanted to know; it sickened her that someone had done something to her, had controlled her in some way, and she had no memory of it. A sudden fear swept her. Catherine watched her face pale, reading her sudden fear in the way her jaw clenched, cutting off her next question. "Sara, you weren't... you weren't sexually assaulted." The look in Sara's eyes showed Catherine guessed correctly, and the relief was evident in her face as she visibly relaxed. Catherine filled her in as quickly as possible, tactfully editing out her own involvement in the case for now. Catherine squeezed her hand in the ensuring silence; Sara's downcast eyes focused on the blanket near her fingers, lost in thought.  
  
Gil stepped in then, holding two cups of coffee, which he quickly set down to cross to the bed to take Sara's hand. Her gaze was unreadable, but certainly not the pleasure Catherine might have expected. She gave a wane smile and said, "I thought I heard you, like in my dreams or something." He picked up the book from her bedside and held up it so she could see the title, "I was reading to you." Sara's smile got a little wider and Catherine knew she shared her idea of the light reading he had chosen.  
  
"MacBeth? Uplifting." She tried to sound normal, but her voice was weaker with each word and her eyes drooped.  
  
He patted her hand. "It's forensic. The blood on the hands..." He caught her tired look. "I'll leave it here for you. I'm leaving for Vegas soon; I just wanted to see you were ok before I left." The relief was evident on her face as he beamed down at her. "You gave us a scare."  
  
Greg cleared his throat from the door, and entered, bearing a large bouquet of flowers. "I heard Sleeping Beauty was awake."  
  
Sara's confusion was complete. "Greg? What are you doing here?" The puzzle pushed the exhaustion back, just a little.  
  
"Umm," Greg faltered, catching Catherine's look, "dropping off these flowers for you from Nick, Warrick, and I," he finished, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He set the bouquet on a table. "I'm glad you are ok." He glanced at his watch. "Catherine will explain the rest. Grissom, we need to get to the airport."  
  
"Oh, right." He was reluctant to release Sara's hand. "Be well." He paused by the door. "I'll be in touch about the serial murder case,' and then was gone. Sara's gaze lingered on the spot where he had departed, her expression managing to look both relieved and sad. It was a long time before she glanced up at Catherine, as if she just realized she was still there. Then her eyes narrowed in puzzlement.  
  
"Wait, why are you still here?"  
  
Catherine sank back into the chair, briefly considering how she was going to explain taking her over team's case, and sighed. Honesty is the best policy, right? she thought to herself. "You ok for a couple more minutes?" she asked, not wanting to tire Sara. Sara's face was drawn and pale, but she nodded firmly. "So I, um, got myself assigned to your case. I ran your case, in fact." She explained her reasoning and how she got Greg there, and the results. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have stepped in, but I was running on adrenaline and while your CSIs are good, they are young and somewhat inexperienced." The sentence came out in a breathless gust as she tried to make Sara understand. "And with you out, nobody had the clout to take on the PD."  
  
Hey eyes had closed again while Catherine was talking, and for a second she thought Sara had missed the entire explanation. She started to slip her hand out of Sara's when Sara's grip tightened, holding her in place. "Cath... thanks."  
  
"No need for thanks. I'm just glad I was here. If I had been in Vegas and had just had to sit on my hands... "She let out a shaky breath, releasing the pent-up tension in her shoulders and stomach that had been driving her. "I was so glad I was doing something."  
  
"Still, th..." Catherine's finger stopped Sara from completing the word. "I said 'no thanks,'" she said with a mock-threatening tone, "and I meant it." Under her finger, Sara's lips quirked into a smile, and Catherine felt a slight pressure, a faint kiss pressed there against her fingertip. "You should sleep," Catherine said in the resulting silence. She leaned in and gave Sara a light kiss on the forehead, a natural yet surprising gesture. "I'll be back later."  
  
She walked toward the door, feeling Sara's eyes following her. "Cath, wait." She turned and leaned against the doorframe, wondering what Sara was going to say. It wasn't what she expected. "Where are you staying?"  
  
Catherine shook her head, "I don't know. I'll get a hotel somewhere."  
  
"Stay at my place. My keys should be around here somewhere."  
  
"Sara, I couldn't....' Sara's glower was entirely too forceful for someone just waking up in the hospital. "I guess I could."  
  
"Address is on my license, car's in the garage if you need. See you." Her words slurred off toward the end, and she was asleep before Catherine left the room. As soon as Catherine hit the pavement in front of the hospital, she turned her cell on and was surprised that it rang almost immediately. 


	6. Places and Times

Author's note: Embarrassing typo (convulsing is not convalescing, as I intended) and some of the dialogue seemed choppy, so I had to fix this section. For those hoping for some CS slash, the next few chapters shouldn't disappoint. Will be updated soon.  
  
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**Places and Times**  
  
Catherine reflected on the irony as she dropped her bag just inside the door of Sara's townhouse. In the four and a half years Sara had been in Vegas, she had never visited her apartment, and now she stood in the entranceway of Sara's home. It was one of those new urban development projects, with a garage and two stories. It didn't seem like Sara's style at first, but then Catherine couldn't imagine that Sara spent a lot of time worrying about her environment, but still, she would have thought Sara would prefer something old, with character. It is close to work, she mused, and there's a lot to do within walking distance. Maybe it's convenience?  
  
The first floor was open,, the chrome and black kitchen separated from the rest by an island with a bar on one side. Two placemats were placed on the bar, and it looked like that's where Sara ate most of the time. A newspaper was folded on the island, like she had been reading it while she ate. Catherine found herself looking around the rest of the area curiously, trying to find out more about the enigma that was Sara.  
  
The colors surprised her the most, she realized when she walked around the living area. Catherine wasn't sure what she expected, but the warm browns and yellows, reminiscent of old sepia-toned photographs, wasn't really the color scheme she would have associated with Sara. The color scheme seemed dictated by the antique furniture that dominated the space. A beautiful old library table held her computer and printer in front of a wall of in-built bookcases, full of books and knickknacks. Old mission-style chairs and coffee table formed a conversation space with a yellow-gold couch, the color off-setting the darker hues of the chairs. A comfortable-looking leather recliner finished off the space, obviously a favorite of Sara's if the small stack of books beside the chair was any indication. Antique camera equipment and a few family photographs graced the display spaces around the room. Like her office, black and white photographs and prints covered the walls. Gil was right; photography does seem to be a passion.  
  
Catherine wandered back to the kitchen, placing the teapot on to make tea. She searched through Sara's cupboards, finding an assortment of tea bags in an antique coffee tin. She fixed herself a cup and made a bagel, unsure when the last time she ate was. Plopping down on the couch, she turned on the TV to check the news, nibbling at the bagel to avoid eating too fast.  
  
When Catherine awoke, the television was still on, only it had switched to some daytime soap. It took her a few moments to register where she was, her eyes sweeping the unfamiliar furnishings in confusion. She groggily checked her watch and realized she must have been tired, because she had slept, slumped on the couch, for nearly six hours. Grabbing her bag, she went in search of the bathroom, mentally listing her next steps: shower, hospital; but then her stomach growled, and she amended her list: shower, food, hospital. Her clothes dropped in the hallway as she walked, knowing she was alone in the house and too groggy to care about being a slob. The shower revived her somewhat, and she found herself rehearsing what she was going to say to Sara.  
  
Twenty minutes later, showered, changed, and full, Catherine headed through the door she thought was the garage and stopped dead, surprised by what the room revealed. A bright red vintage Mustang convertible occupied most of the space, the top already down. Sara's car in Nevada had been white and practical, she remembered, a Toyota or Honda or something, not, she was sure, a 60s muscle car. But the muscle car wasn't her only surprise: along the wall, beside the car, a wide array of sports equipment was hung or stored: two bikes, a backpack, roller blades, and ropes for rock climbing. Catherine took n the array, wondering if Sara had had all this back when she was in Nevada, and what else they hadn't known about her.  
  
----------  
  
Sara saw her in the doorway, over the shoulder of doctor rattled off restrictions and instructions. She waved Catherine in as Catherine turned to go. Catherine stepped just inside the door, not wanting to intrude, as the doctor finished her recitation. Catherine smiled at her as she exited, leaving her alone with Sara. Sara's bruise was reaching its peak and the whole side of her face was red and purple, but the eyes above it sparkled.  
  
"You look rested," and she did. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, and the book Grissom had left was lying on the blankets beside her. She had obviously been awake for a while. Her skin was still pale, but the sick pallor was gone, and she looked so much like her old self that Catherine had an urge to hug her.  
  
"Yeah. The doc was just telling me I can go home tomorrow. The latest CAT scan came up clear and except for a couple of hairline fractures, the concussion, and some massive bruising, I'm fine." Catherine quirked an eyebrow at her definition of fine, knowing how serious her injuries really were. Sara sighed, looking dismayed. "I'm on sick leave for three weeks from work."  
  
"Yeah," Catherine started, picking her words carefully. "I spoke to Captain Harris this morning." Sara's face twisted into a puzzled expression, but let the silence prompt Catherine to continue. "She... um, asked me to stay and run the shift during your recovery." She hurried on, seeing the expression on Sara's face flitting between anger, concern, and complete bewilderment. "Partially, it's because she wants to say I was on the payroll when I ran your case, and partially because she, quote, wants a suitable replacement for her star CSI, unquote."  
  
Sara was unsure how she felt about this; she hadn't always compared favorably to Catherine in the past, as she remembered all the times she played second fiddle or even got bumped from cases because of Catherine. The circumstances were different here, but the feelings of insecurity she always felt around the older CSI hadn't completely vanished. Although, she thought, if she was out, she would want the best to work with her team, right? Shouldn't that be more important than her ego? Her thoughts spiraled around these two poles for several minutes and some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face.  
  
Catherine caught her hand and squeezed, bringing her attention back to the strawberry blonde standing there. "I won't do it if you don't want me to," she said quietly, and Sara realized that her silence could be interpreted in a number of different ways, most of them unfavorably. Catherine's face was unreadable, but Sara's continued silence had to be painful.  
  
"Sorry," she said, trying to soften the silence with a smile. "It's not that you aren't a great CSI."  
  
"But...?" Catherine's voice was low and controlled, but Sara could hear an edge of pain break through. Having your competence questioned was not fun, Sara knew, and she hated doing this to the older CSI. Sara knew there was no way to explain except the truth, even though the truth made her look stupid and childish. "But... they won't want me back after working with you," she admitted softly, her eyes riveted on a spot of blanket to avoid Catherine's eyes.  
  
Catherine let out a shaky laugh. "And here I was worried about filling your shoes." She laughed again at Sara's puzzled look. "Sara, they are your team and they adore you." Catherine could guess why Sara might feel insecure; when she had started at Vegas, she had come in late on the team, tasked with investigating one of their own, and she had always had struggled to find a place. And, Catherine admitted to herself, none of them, especially her, had made it any easier on the younger woman. It made sense that she would feel a little uneasy. "This isn't Vegas. This time, I'm the new face, the interloper, coming in on YOUR team."  
  
Sara mulled this over for a while, obviously struggling with her internal conflict. "Well, the lab couldn't get any better," she said, finally.  
  
"Well, actually they could," Catherine corrected, "but she's on sick leave for the next three weeks." She smothered her grin at Sara's doubtful expression for a moment, and then let it shine through, happy to see Sara give a small smile in return. Catherine had to admit she was relieved that Sara had been truthful about her concern, given how secretive she had been at times. She knew the secrecy had been a protective measure on Sara's part, and was glad that perhaps such measures weren't necessarily between them anymore.  
  
Sara's voice interrupted her thoughts, abruptly bringing her back to the hospital room. "Wait, what about Grissom? And Lindsey?"  
  
"Well, I was already going to be here for a week anyway to finish up, so it's just a little longer. Grissom will have to deal with it," she said in the tone Sara knew she would use with Grissom. "Lindsey's on summer vacation, so I thought I might have her join me here and we could have a little vacation together. It will be a nice change of pace."  
  
Sara nodded and seemed to be thinking about something before she apparently made up her mind. The results were conveyed to Catherine in a tone that brooked no argument. "You are staying with me."  
  
Catherine was completely floored and secretly pleased by the invitation, but she tried to argue anyway. "Sara, you don't want Lindsey around while you are convalescing. And your townhouse has only two bedrooms. And..."  
  
"Who will babysit Linds while you are at work?" Sara interjected logically?  
  
"Um..."  
  
Sara continued to pile on arguments, not heeding Catherine. "And there's plenty of room. And it's close to work, while most hotels are far from work. And rush hour traffic here is brutal. And where did you plan on staying anyway?"  
  
Catherine looked a little chagrined. "I hadn't thought that far in advance," she admitted.  
  
"Linds can have the guest room. I have a king bed in my bedroom. We can share."  
  
"Um, share?"  
  
Sara grinned. "Yeah, share. I can keep to myself if you can."  
  
Catherine blinked, and then her eyes widened when she realized what Sara meant. She couldn't believe she hadn't been thinking of that interpretation of the offer whereas Sara had been. Since when did she miss the sexual innuendo and Sara picked up on it? And since when did Sara make comments like that to her anyway? Catherine gave up trying to think through the implications of her thoughts. "Um, actually, I was thinking that I'll be coming in late at night and that you are recovering from your injuries." She smirked down at Sara. "I really wasn't worried bed etiquette."  
  
Sara's grin got a little wider, acknowledging the fact that she had been busted, and hastily tried to cover. "I know for a fact four people can fit comfortably on a kind-sized bed. You getting into bed won't even cause a ripple. "  
  
Catherine's smile assumed a predatory cast, an expression well-known by all her friends and colleagues. After all, her reputation for being sexually- provocative and willing to share her private life was well known, but it wasn't exactly something Sara had engaged in. "Cite your source."  
  
"Cite my source?" Sara repeated, stalling. She couldn't believe she had just said that, and wondered if she could blame the drugs or her injuries. She yawned, and stretched. "Actually, I'm getting a little tired. Maybe..." she said, hopefully, but the expression on Catherine's face told her she wasn't getting out of this one.  
  
"Oh no, Sidle, you are not getting out of this that easy. Cite your source," Catherine commanded, actually enjoying the younger CSI's discomfort. Sara's face was casebook embarrassment as she looked around the room for a distraction, but she finally fessed up. "Teresa Warner. Weekend getaway to Maine. A couple of our friends decided to join us for the road trip at the last minute, and everyone ended up in our room when the hotel didn't have any vacancies. We fit very comfortably," she finished blandly.  
  
Catherine nodded, her smile threatening to split her face, until she caught something Sara said and her eyes got wide, "But you and your friend," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "had a king bed and not two double beds initially?" She followed her thoughts to their logical conclusions. "So didn't having extra people in the bed, um, make it difficult for you and your friend?" she asked.  
  
"Not necessarily," Sara replied, deadpan, giving Catherine an innocent look. Seeing Sara's face, she knew the topic of conversation had been dropped, and Sara's next words confirmed it. "So you are staying with me," As they discussed the logistics of the living arrangements, Catherine was left trying to figure out exactly what Sara had confessed to.  
  
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TBC, of course. Thanks to Heksie, Laredo Grissom, Ghibli,, sentient and everyone for their encouraging reviews. 


	7. Time Out

**Time out**  
  
Sara sighed as she leaned back against the upholstery of the Mustang and closed her eyes, glad to be out of the hospital at last. She was a lousy patient, she knew, and the last day she had been pretty hard to take. Even though Catherine had brought her books, journals, and DVDs, and every one of her CSIs had visited, spending time just sitting was incredibly draining for her. The nursing staff was probably very glad to see the last of her. Even though she was in more pain than she would ever admit, leaving the hospital was a relief.  
  
The mid-morning sun felt good as they cruised, and Sara happily made plans to spend the afternoon on her deck, soaking it all in. If she had to be a lazy bum for the next few weeks, at least she could do it outdoors. She felt rather than saw Catherine's repeated glances her way as they drove, and finally she couldn't take it anymore. "What?" she asked, squinting one eye open.  
  
"I've just been wondering where you got the car."  
  
"Not my style, huh?" Sara replied, catching Catherine's sheepish look as she voiced what the older CSI had been thinking. She laughed and shifted up in the seat, trying to hide her wince of pain and knowing that Catherine caught everything. "My dad. My parents own a B&B outside the city." She considered saying something more about her parents, but her sometimes difficult relationship with them was not something she wanted to share. "I went out to see them when I got back and Dad took one look at my car and decided I needed some color." She shook her head in disbelief that her parents never ceased to amaze and infuriate her. "I think his exact words were, 'White is the color of death. You need some vibrancy in your life. It will help your life energy.' Next thing I knew, I was driving this home." She laughed at how she couldn't argue with his inexplicable gestures even now. "I'm going to give it back to him in a couple of months, when he's forgotten why he gave it to me in the first place, but until then, I'm just enjoying it."  
  
"It's great," Catherine agreed, swinging the car into the garage. "I'm completely jealous. They got situated, and soon were sitting out on the deck, sipping iced tea and drowsing. Catherine noted Sara's outfit lived up to her tomboy status, a pair of cut-off jeans and a black sports bra, but the rather demure attire showed off her long muscular legs and wide shoulders as well as the bruises that mottled her arms and back. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but she appeared to be dozing, so Catherine examined her at her leisure. She didn't think she had ever seen Sara so relaxed around her before, and she once again regretted being so hard on the young woman. Every insult she had directed at Sara replayed itself before her eyes, as well as every time Sara had tried to open up to her. She remembered the carnival case, where the mother had drowned her child, and Sara's plaintive, "We're not getting lunch, are we?" after they had tangled about Catherine's motivations.  
  
On the other lounge chair, Sara was not only awake, but well aware of Catherine's scrutiny as well. She still wasn't sure what impulse had driven her to invite them to stay with her, and she was undecided on whether she would regret it or not, but since she had left Vegas, Sara had made a concerted effort to be more open and social in her life. Inviting Catherine and Lindsey to stay with her was definitely part of that effort, but there was such a thing as being too open as well. Too late now, she thought to herself, as she swiveled her head to Catherine, eliciting a slight jolt of surprise from the older woman.  
  
"You're working your first shift tonight, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Catherine's voice was lazy and tired, as the heat finally started getting to her. Sara's glance took in her drooping eyelids as well as her very pale skin. "You should go in and take a nap." Catherine grunted her reply, as if words were too much of an effort. "You are going to burn if you sleep out here. Even with the sunblock," Sara said patiently, as if talking to a child.  
  
Catherine sighed. "Yeah, but it feels so good," she pouted.  
  
Sara chuckled. "The sun will still be here later." Catherine grumbled at her logic, but she hoisted herself out of the chair. She paused beside Sara, noting that Sara looked tanned enough to keep her from burning if she fell asleep. "You need anything before I go?"  
  
She considered for a moment. "Yeah, can you bring me the phone? I was going to have the team come over for a quick dinner before shift so I can break the news to them about their new supervisor in person." Shielding her eyes with her hand, she looked up at Catherine. "That ok with you?"  
  
"Yeah, actually, that would be better than them hearing the news as we start the shift."  
  
"I thought so too. I'm just going to order something in since I don't feel like cooking and I'm pretty sure I need to run to the grocery soon. Chinese or pizza?"  
  
"Surprise me."  
  
Catherine ended up being pleasantly surprised by dinner, as Sara ordered in some excellent Thai food and the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly. The team took the news fairly well, but Jerome didn't look very happy, and Catherine made a note to work on cultivating him. Apparently, pre- and post- shift dinners were a regular occurrence, as all of the younger CSIs knew their way around Sara's kitchen, and there was none of the stiff formality that would signal their unease at being summoned to their supervisor's house. She wondered if Sara did this in a conscious effort to be as unlike Gil as possible; given how she tried to encourage teamwork and frequent, and direct, feedback on performance, Catherine thought this was very likely. She would have liked to complement Sara on how well she was doing, but she was afraid it would sound condescending.  
  
Sara's energy was obviously flagging as Catherine got ready to leave, and she managed to talk her into bed. Amazingly, Sara fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and Catherine delayed for a few moments as she watched her slide into a deep sleep. When she got back and was quietly changing into her pajamas, Catherine noticed Sara hadn't moved from the position she had fallen asleep in, and was surprised that she had slept through the night. As she climbed in carefully, still a little nervous about sharing the bed, she saw that Sara's eyes were open, and her sigh was audible, the meaning obvious to them both.  
  
"What?" Sara's sleepy voice belayed her alert eyes. "It's ok, I'll be back to sleep soon. I just wanted to hear how the shift went." Thus began their routine. Once Lindsey arrived, Sara would get up with her and make breakfast, the two of them often disappearing to go to a museum or movie or shopping while Catherine slept. When Catherine got up, the three of them spent the afternoon together, sightseeing or playing in a park before Sara cooked dinner while Catherine took her shower before work. And every night, when Catherine slipped into bed, Sara woke up and, curled up and facing each other on opposite pillows, Catherine would fill her in on everything that happened during the shift.  
  
Catherine had immediately realized that she had underestimated Sara's baby- sitting abilities that first morning she woke up and Lindsey filled her in on the morning that included flying kites on the beach and a walk in the park. As she watched the two together, Catherine realized that Sara was good with Lindsey because she didn't treat her as a kid, but instead talked with her seriously, as if talking to an adult. It didn't hurt that Sara enjoyed the activities she and Lindsey shared as well, another thing Catherine realized the first time she caught them climbing the jungle gym together. There was a charming, kid-like quality to Sara when she let her guard down and just had fun, and Lindsey seemed to bring that out. Surprisingly, it was soccer that they really bonded over, and Catherine knew most mornings while she slept, they spent hours practicing. She had to admit it was a side of Sara she had never imagined, and given that Sara had always said she wasn't good with kids, she thought that it might have surprised Sara as well.  
  
One night, after a particularly draining case involving a child abduction, Catherine slid under the covers and Sara didn't wake up. "Sara?" Catherine asked, gently reaching over and shaking her shoulder. Sara's body lurched under her hand, but she didn't wake up. That's when Catherine noticed a note under the reading lamp on her side of the bed. "C – Doctor gave me sleeping pills and made me take one tonight. Talk to you in the morning – S" Catherine smiled to herself as she read the note, thinking how thoughtful the gesture was as her eyes closed.  
  
When her eyes popped open in the middle of her nightmare, Catherine sat up so quickly she hit her head on the headboard and grunted in pain. The remnants of the nightmare flashed behind her eyes; a little girl who looked like Lindsey, Lindsey herself in a car filling with water, and a trunk lid opening to reveal Sara's bruised and battered face. Her deep breaths calmed her somewhat as sweat cooled on her skin, but the images didn't recede quickly or easily.  
  
"Cath." Sara's voice was so quiet and sleepy she could barely hear it, but the concern was clear. "You ok?"  
  
Catherine slid down in the bed carefully, facing Sara across the pillows. "Yeah." Sara reached over and brushed a few stray hairs off her damp forehead, and she turned her face into the caress as she felt Sara's fingers slide down her cheek. Sara's expression was doubtful as she gazed across, but Catherine saw her eyes blink rapidly as she fought against sleep. "Sure?" Sara asked as she caught and held Catherine's hand in her own, loosely lacing their fingers together in the center of the bed. Catherine nodded and smiled, watching Sara's eyes close. She lay, staring at their entwined hands for a long time before following Sara's example and going back to sleep. When she awoke, Sara was sitting beside her on the bed, a book propped up on her knees and a look of concentration on her face. "You want to talk about it?" Sara's question cut through the fog of sleepiness as Catherine stretched and rubbed her eyes.  
  
"About what?" She answered, hoping maybe if she played it off, Sara would let it drop.  
  
"You screamed, at the end of that nightmare." The scream had pulled Sara out of a deep, drugged sleep to see Catherine bolt upright in bed, the terror in her eyes evident by the light of the reading lamp she had apparently forgot to turn off, and the sight had occupied Sara's thoughts all morning. So when Lindsey had curled up on the couch to watch cartoons, Sara had ended up back in the bedroom watching Catherine sleep. Which wasn't exactly a hardship, Sara mused, considering how she had memorized the lines of Catherine's face as the sunlight had outlined the sharp angles of her face and cast her lips into sharp relief. Sara would have loved to have captured the play of light across her features, but taking pictures of her while she slept would have been rude to say the very least. She had finally had to pick up a book, but even then thoughts of waking up holding Catherine's hand had interfered with her concentration.  
  
Catherine sat up, embarrassed by her outburst the night before. "Just a nightmare." Her expression was pensive. "Bad night at work last night." She saw Sara's questioning look. "Later, ok? I... kinda want to spend some time with Lindsey." Disappointment shown in Sara's eyes, but she seemed to read the meaning behind Catherine's words.  
  
"Why don't the two of you go shopping?" she suggested. Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but Sara cut her off. "I need to run to the market this afternoon, and you know I have a limited ability to look at various shades of pink for more than ten minutes, tops." Her apparent understanding soothed Catherine's worry, and she caught her hand and squeezed it, trying to convey her appreciation.  
  
"Thanks. Could you tell Linds to get ready? I'm going to take an early shower." Sara hopped up, and strode out of the door before Catherine called her back. She leaned in the doorway, an eyebrow extended to show she was listening. "Thanks." Sara shook her head silently, as if to say there was no need for thanks, and then she disappeared from the doorway, leaving Catherine to stare after her, lost in thought. 


	8. Double Dare Ya

**Double Dare Ya**  
  
Sara hoisted the cloth shopping bag onto the counter from her excursion to the open-air market, noting that she had had all the ingredients now for vegetable burritos, which she had gotten Lindsey hooked on her first night there. Smiling to herself and humming under her breath, she started to prepare and chop the vegetables, thinking about how much fun she had had during the last three weeks. Amazingly, she hadn't been bored being home from work; having Lindsey and Catherine at her house had kept her busy and entertained, and she hadn't even stopped into work near as much as she expected. She had been pleasantly surprised at how well she had handled having house guests as well, since she had been nervous about being unable to handle it. After all, she had been an only child and while there had always been people around her parent's B&B as she grew up, she was used to being alone and having her space to herself. Having both Catherine and Lindsey around could have been the recipe for disaster. Instead, she had found herself letting go of her normal reserve, playing like a kid around Lindsey and exploring San Francisco like a tourist. Lindsey left in two days for a summer camp and Catherine left a week after that, and Sara wasn't looking forward to how quiet the house was going to be.  
  
As she got out the pan for the vegetables, Catherine and Lindsey burst through the door, carrying at least four shopping bags each. They were giggling about something, and Catherine's smile was relaxed and happy, a marked improvement from the drawn and tired expression she had had earlier. Lindsey dropper her bags just inside the door and bolted into the kitchen to give Sara a quick hug. "Sara! You have to see what I got.' she exclaimed, and Sara couldn't help but put the pan down and give her a hug back, meeting Catherine's amused expression over Lindsey's head. "Is there anything left at the store for other people?" Sara asked, eyeing the multitude of bags.  
  
Catherine managed to look both smug and embarrassed as she caught Sara's comment and glance at the bags. "Linds, why don't you go get your bags and take them out on the deck? We'll eat out there and then you can show Sara your new _school_ clothes." Sara's eyebrow quirked up at Catherine's not-so- subtle jibe before turning back to fixing dinner.  
  
As they sat around the table, Lindsey detailed all the stores and new clothes she had gotten while somehow managing to eat two burritos through the non-stop stream of talk. As soon as she was done eating, she bolted from the table to watch cartoons while Sara and Catherine finished eating. "I couldn't believe how many stores already had school clothes out already, but since we were already there, it seemed like a good time to get a start on it," Catherine explained. Sara nodded attentively, although she had no idea when school clothes came out or what back-to-school shopping entailed. "Did you get anything?" she asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Actually, yes." Catherine sounded quite pleased with her new purchase, whatever it was. "I bought a new dress. Which reminds me..." She paused, her expression looking even more pleased, if that was possible, "I think we should go out to dinner tomorrow night. To celebrate you going back to work." She threw the words out clipped and short, as if she expected Sara to argue with the suggestion, but Sara just shrugged her shoulders and nodded. "Sure. It's Lindsey's last night. We can go to that theme restaurant she likes."  
  
Catherine shook her head firmly. "No. Someplace nice. Not with an inflatable castle." Sara and Lindsey had ended up abandoning her to play video games the last time they had been there. "I want you to make reservations at a nice, upscale restaurant, someplace with a good wine list since I don't have to work tomorrow night."  
  
Sara actually looked disappointed to miss out on the video games; Catherine sighed and rolled her eyes before getting a sudden inspiration. "You know," she began, in that low, sexy voice that she used when she wanted something and wanted to make sure she got it, "I have an idea." Sara managed to keep a neutral expression on her face even though the tone in Catherine's voice made her nervous. Sara had visions of Catherine dragging her into some dress store for something dark and slinky. Catherine's idea confirmed Sara's suspicions. "You should wear something daring to dinner."  
  
"Daring?"  
  
"Yeah, daring. Unexpected. Fun. All-out." Catherine's green eyes twinkled mischievously as Sara squirmed at the very idea. "Dressed to the nines." Sara considered the idea, her eyes narrowed as she either tried to think of a way out of it or tried to figure out what to wear. "When you mean daring, you mean daring for me? And not daring for people who are usually less conservative than I, right?" she clarified. At Catherine's nod, she seemed to make up her mind and a smirk pulled the corners of her mouth. "And it doesn't have to be a dress?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Ok." Catherine was amazed by her quick acceptance, and the expression on Sara's face, which looked like she was harboring a very interesting secret, piqued Catherine's curiosity. "So what are you going to wear," she asked, fishing.  
  
"You'll see tomorrow night," was Sara's swift rejoinder from behind her secret smile.  
  
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Catherine glanced at her watch for the third time in ten minutes, waiting for both of her 'girls.' Lindsey was excited about the special, grown-up restaurant and was over-doing her preparations, but Sara never took this long to get changed, and Catherine wondered if she had gotten cold feet. Sara had seemed so cocky the night before, so she didn't imagine it was that, Catherine thought as she gazed out the sliding glass doors idly.  
  
"Ahem." Sara cleared her throat, announcing her presence, and Catherine spun around, dying to see what Sara was wearing. Catherine knew her mouth had fallen open, but she was powerless to close it as she stared. Sara had indeed picked a daring 'look,' since the outfit was only part of the overall effect of the black-and-silver vision in front of her. The low- slung, soft, well-worn black leather pants hugged Sara's legs like a second skin, perfectly complimenting the tight, form-fitting vest in matching black leather that left her arms and a narrow sliver of skin at her waist exposed. Silver glittered from the choker around her neck, matching the snaps of the vest and the oversized cowboy belt buckle at her waist. Her dark hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands framing her face, accenting darker eye make-up and blood red lipstick she wore, a dramatic change from the neutral peaches and pinks she normally wore. She looked like a bad-ass but stunning biker in her leather and black boots, Catherine decided finally.  
  
While Catherine had been staring in shock, Sara had been admiring Catherine's new dress appreciatively. It was a simple, black dress with spaghetti straps, made of a light, flowing fabric that clung to Catherine's figure in all the right places. Her hair was more curly than usual, and it framed her face and cascading down her back, matching the dress. "You look great," Sara told her, withholding the wolf whistle she knew Catherine would not appreciate. Seeing Catherine staring at her, mouth slightly agape, she had a sudden nervous impulse to run back upstairs and change. "What?"  
  
"Wow," Catherine managed to get out. "Wow. You look... amazing."  
  
"Really?' She asked, blushing a little at the compliment. Catherine nodded, her eyes still wide, as she noticed how adorable Sara looked when she blushed. "Oh yeah," she replied, emphasizing the 'yeah' just enough to deepen the blush on Sara's cheeks. "You think it'll be ok for the restaurant? Or are you taking us to a biker bar?" she teased.  
  
"Cath, this is San Francisco," Sara reminded her dryly. "People wear leather to weddings instead of tuxedos."  
  
Catherine stepped closer, running a finger along the edge of seam on Sara's vest. "This isn't new," she remarked, glancing up at Sara's face just in time to catch a sudden flush reddening her skin. She puzzled over it for a moment, until she realized how close she had stepped, and how intimate a gesture her fingering the skin-tight fabric was. She considered stepping back, but decided that would embarrass them both. Besides, it was fun to toy with the younger woman. "You've had this outfit for a while," she said, her finger still caressing the fabric softly.  
  
"Yeah, I used to wear it out." There was a challenging tone in Sara's voice, as if to say, 'I can play this game too,' and Catherine smiled flirtatiously. She was thinking about a next move, something subtle but provocative, when they both heard Lindsey running down the stairs. On cue, they both took a step back, so they were facing each other across a few feet of carpet by the time Lindsey burst into the room, shouting "Ready."  
  
-------------  
  
Dinner was great. Sara had picked a seafood restaurant facing the ocean, the dark wood gleaming in the recessed lighting and candles that graced the tables. Lindsey was in awe, like only a child could be, at the elegance, and she had been on her best behavior. She ordered a kiddie cocktail that came in a martini glass and she had beamed when they had clinked glasses. She was telling Sara all about her camp, a long involved story with lots of tangents, so Catherine could study Sara at her leisure. The candlelight emphasized the contrast between the dark shades she was wearing and her pale skin, and her dark eyes gleamed like liquid velvet in the muted lighting. She really was stunning, Catherine thought, in an unconventional, almost boyish way.  
  
Sara caught her watching, and gave her a slow, deliberately sexy smile. In a lull in the conversation, Sara leaned toward Catherine to whisper, "Like what you see?" in her soft, slow drawl. It took a couple of breaths for Catherine to answer her, as her breath had caught in her throat as Sara's mouth had lowered toward her, envisioning Sara kissing her. "Um," she stammered, "I already told you look great. Fishing for more compliments?" she said teasingly, hoping to put Sara off-balance a little so she herself could recover. The sudden realization that she had wanted Sara to kiss her threw her plans for a loop, and she barely noticed Sara's self-conscious expression as she settled back into her seat. Luckily, the waitress delivered their dinner, and the awkwardness dissipated.  
  
There was a boardwalk just down the road, and they stopped for a stroll at Lindsey's insistence. While Lindsey ran on ahead, Catherine strolled with Sara in the strained silence that had descended on them since dinner. They weren't, Catherine noticed, the only female couple walking with a child, and she smiled to herself, thinking about how things seemed more open, freer somehow, than in Las Vegas. Sara saw her expression and looked at her questioningly, but Catherine just shook her head, leaning in closer to Sara as they walked to where Lindsey waited by the carousel, and wished she had the nerve to take her arm.  
  
As they watched Lindsey ride, Sara cleared her throat, breaking the silence with a quiet, "Hey." She paused for a moment, obviously trying to come up with a topic. "I, um, wanted to tha..." Catherine's finger on her lips cut her words off.  
  
"I know you weren't going to say 'thank you.' I believe I outlawed that some time ago," Catherine said, alluding to their conversation in the hospital.  
  
"What, I can't tha... Hey." Sara grabbed her hand as she smothered the words again. "You paid for dinner, so the least I can do is..." she got out, before her words got choked off again as Catherine twisted her hand out of her grasp. Sara kept trying to speak and keep Catherine's hands away, but somehow Catherine kept eluding her grasp as they wrestled, both giggling hysterically as they fought. Sara managed to get over half the word out after as exorbitant amount of effort, before Catherine's hand covered her mouth completely. Sara stopped struggling, laughing at Catherine's triumphant expression, which turned into a very different expression when Sara pressed a light kiss against the sensitive skin of her palm. The electricity that passed through her body at such a chaste kiss struck her dumb, which Sara's warm breathe under her still-raised hand did nothing to help. Then Lindsey was there, shivering a little in the brisk ocean air, and they headed for the car.  
  
-------------  
  
Catherine bolt up from the nightmare, this time managing to avoid hitting her head. The images that had bothered her the last few nights flickered like an after-image on her retinas, and she ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out, trying to get rid of the last lingering remnants. When she glanced over at Sara to see if she had woken her, she realized that Sara still wasn't in bed. When they had gotten back from dinner, she had parked herself on the couch and turned on the comedy channel, surprising Catherine because Sara rarely watched TV and never the comedy channel. It was three in the morning according to the clock, and Catherine sighed as she realized Sara might be avoiding her.  
  
The sound from the television got louder as Catherine descended the stairs, and she rounded the corner, expecting Sara to be asleep on the couch. Instead, she was sprawled on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table, laughing at something on the TV. Catherine plopped down on the couch beside her, staring at the oddly animated cartoon she seemed to be watching, and missed Sara's jump as she surprised her. "What are you watching?" she asked, puzzled and sleepy.  
  
"South Park marathon."  
  
"South Park?" Catherine stared at the TV in horror as one of the characters, a little boy, was killed and rats starting eating the body. Her disgusted look then turned to Sara, who was laughing at the gory scene. "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"What?" Sara said, protested. "It's funny." She saw Catherine's expression of disbelief, and tried to explain. "It's an ironic statement about violence on television." Her expression perked up as another episode started. "This one is great. Carmen fills in for Bob Rooney and is on his own episode of Cops." Catherine spent the next few minutes, watching both the screen and Sara in equal amounts, not sure which was more unsettling.  
  
"So... "Sara began during the first commercial break. "Why are you up?"  
  
"Nightmare."  
  
Sara turned down the sound on the TV and twisted around so she was facing Catherine, tucking her long legs in and resting her head on her hand. "Same one that's been bothering you these last couple of nights?"  
  
"Yeah," Catherine said carefully, her reluctance to talk about it evident in her manner. "Want to tell me about it?" Sara asked when Catherine didn't say more.  
  
"Not much to tell. A case involving a kid kinds threw me, and I keep seeing the kid and Lindsey in my dreams." She deliberately didn't mention the images of Sara that had recurred at the end of the nightmare. She chuckled a little as the television show came back on and shifted the conversation away from her. "This show isn't that bad." Sara glared at her, but allowed the change of topic, obviously biding her time. 


	9. Why Can't I?

Thanks for all the encouraging reviews, everyone. Sorry it took so long for this chapter – I was struggling with it a little. Writing physicality and movement is one of my weaknesses so it took me longer to work through this scene.  
  
But this just the beginning  
We're already wet and we're going to go swimming  
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?  
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?  
It's inevitable, the fact that we're going to get down to it  
So tell me, why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?  
-Liz Phair (I prefer classic Liz Phair from the early 90s, but this recent pop hit seems appropriate).  
  
------------------  
  
**Why can't I?**  
  
"So, this case is pretty much done?" Sara asked, staring at the files in front of her, her head resting on her hand. She didn't look up as she spoke. She was oblivious to the bored look Catherine shot her from her perch on the sofa. They had been reviewing case files for the last three hours and Sara didn't seem to be ready to let up any time soon. Catherine had an urge to make a joke about Grissom, but she was pretty sure Sara would not be amused. Even though she had been acting rather odd and quiet since last night, comparisons to Grissom would only bring the wrong kind of attention. "Yeah, we're just waiting for the last bit of trace to get back from the lab."  
  
"Ok, then, the Miller case...." Sara began, but Catherine cut her off by standing up abruptly and saying brightly, "I need some coffee. Want some?"  
  
"Umm, yeah, sure." Sara made a notation in a file and flipped through a few pages as Catherine stood over her shoulder, trying to see what was so interesting and involving that she couldn't look up at all. She leaned down so that her head was level with Sara's, smelling her shampoo and light cologne. "You want anything else?" Sara jumped in chair, exhaling explosively, before turning her head, almost knocking her head against Catherine's. "Jesus, Cath." Catherine was still looking down at the paperwork, missing Sara's eyes widening at how close Catherine face, Catherine's mouth, was to her own. Catherine turned her own head, sweeping her hair back as she did so, to find Sara's eyes fixed on her lips. An awkward silence ensued. "Um, no, coffee's fine," Sara stammered, breaking the silence and pulling her head back just a little.  
  
"Ok," Catherine replied, straightening slowly, reluctantly, her mind in turmoil as she headed to the break room. Any more of this tension, she thought as she poured coffee, but her thoughts stopped there. What could she do? What did she want to do? Her brow furrowed as she tried to follow through with a concrete plan or strategy, but nothing suggested itself. This was Sara, her co-worker and now friend, not the latest flavor of the month. And this was the woman who was in love with Grissom, so long and so badly she had to leave her job. Even if she wanted something to happen, she reasoned, it wasn't going to. Catherine sighed and leaned against the counter, rolling her head on her shoulders before picking up the mugs and heading back to Sara's office.  
  
Sara finally seemed distracted from her paperwork, staring off into space as Catherine set her mug down in front of her. Whatever had her distracted must have been a good memory, Catherine noted, because her dark eyes glowed and she had a rueful half-smile on her face. "Thanks." She eyed the stack of files beside her elbow. "We have all week to review these, right?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice. At Catherine's nod, she muttered a heartfelt 'Good.' "Then I am going to take a walk and check in on this evening's cases. I think Annemarie and Jerome are back from that suspicious circs by now. Wanna join me?"  
  
Catherine watched Sara leave the office after declining her offer, and sighed, leaning back into the sofa. Of course, Sara was thinking about work with such a happy expression. She reviewed the last few days in her mind, especially the kiss Sara had pressed into her palm at the boardwalk, the tingle that had run down her arm and through her body, which repeated every time she thought about it. Damn, she thought to herself, damn, damn, damn.  
  
----------  
  
Sara leaned over Annemarie's shoulder and stared at the file on the table before them. "Bar fight at a lesbian bar. It may be self-defense. You only have the witness's testimony and bruising on both the witness and the vic? And most of the trace is meaningless because the witness admits to contact with the vic." She was silent for a moment, rifling through the photos. "We may have to experiment to see if we can explain all the marks."  
  
"A re-creation?" Annemarie asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Sara, happy to have her real supervisor back again. She had missed the enthusiasm Sara brought to her work, and while Catherine had been an adequate substitute, it was good to have the real thing. She wondered if she could or should tell Sara that, but instead she just smiled warmly, hoping her pleasure would be conveyed.  
  
"Yup!" Sara confirmed, the smile on her face huge. "The vic is about my height. We just need someone about the height and weight of the witness." Annemarie chuckled. She was almost as tall and thin as Sara; with their matching brunette hair, people already assumed they were related. "Yeah, you might be a bit too tall," Sara continued. "We need someone shorter."  
  
"Kesha?" Annemarie suggested. Sara shook her head. "Not back from the field yet. I guess I can get Catherine," she said, reluctantly. "She about the right size."  
  
"Yeah," Annemarie said, uncertainly, unsure how to read Sara's reluctance. Her support of Catherine had been unwavering, but they had seemed oddly tense at the beginning of shift today. Annemarie had chalked it up to having two strong personalities trying to share the job, but Sara's strange reluctance made her question her earlier interpretation.  
  
Sara reappeared with Catherine in tow. "Ok, Annemarie, walk us through the witness's statement." The two of them moved to the center of the room, facing each other with several feet between them, tension evident in Catherine's frown and the stiff way Sara stood. Jerome joined Annemarie at the table, his eyes dancing above his amused grin. "This should be interesting," he whispered to her, unrepentant even when Annemarie glared at him. She rolled her eyes at his mock-innocent look, but found herself agreeing with him as she watched Sara shift her weight nervously.  
  
"Ok, according to the witness, she was leaving the hallway where the bathrooms are located and our vic grabbed her arm and turned her around. She then pushed the vic, who stumbled back and hit her head on a crate. By the way, the head injury is the cause of death and we've confirmed that the vic did hit her head on the crate. We just need to make sure the witness's statement is confirmed." Annemarie and Jerome watched as Catherine turned and Sara grabbed her arm, pulling her back around. They seemed to be moving through the motions half-heartedly, and they were still uncomfortably far apart.  
  
Annemarie shook her head. "That doesn't account for all the injuries sustained by the two. First, there were bruises on both of the witness's arms. Sara, when you turn Catherine around, grab both of her upper arms instead of just one." Their actors paused, self-consciously sorting themselves out before Catherine turned again.  
  
Catherine found herself spun around and hauled up in Sara's strong hands, both arms gripped tightly. The movement caught her off guard, and she found her hands braced against Sara's collarbone for stability. The sudden closeness threatened her self-control, but then Annemarie's voice cut through the fog. "Yes, Catherine, that hand placement explains some of the vic's bruising," she called encouragingly. Catherine found herself gazing up at Sara's face, searching for some recognition of their intimate, almost erotic, position. Sara's expression was bland and business-like, and her attention seemed focused only on the task-at-hand.  
  
"Can you push me away in this position?" Sara asked Catherine. Catherine's first thought was, 'why would I want to do that?' and she felt a flush rising in her cheeks that she hoped Sara was too focused to notice. She pushed against Sara's shoulders, gently at first and then with more strength, struggling in the grasp that held her. "No, I don't have the leverage," she admitted.  
  
"The witness was up against the wall. And there was another injury on her back, some scraping," Annemarie added, flipping through the pages of the file to a different photograph. Sara had released her grip, and Catherine walked over toward the wall across from the younger CSIs. "Maybe a wall would help the witness get more leverage to throw off the vic?"  
  
"I guess we'll have to try to see." Sara's discomfort was beginning to show on her face and she schooled her expression into the deliberately bland expression she had learned from Grissom all these years. At last, she thought, these last few years of humiliation have some use. She reached up and caught Catherine's arms again, her eyes fixed on her own hands, avoiding Catherine's face.  
  
With her back to the wall, Sara's body suddenly seemed much closer, even though Catherine could tell Sara was deliberately keeping as much space between their bodies as possible. "Well, the scrapes on the witnesses back could have come from struggling to push off the vic," she reasoned. Sara nodded thoughtfully as Catherine mimicked struggling to loosen her hold.  
  
"No, no," Annemarie corrected, "the scrapes are almost completely vertical, and you are moving side-to-side." She pored over the photos for a second before getting an idea. "Sara, pull Catherine up the wall, like you are trying to kiss her." Catherine was glad that Sara's body blocked the line of sight for the two CSIs watching, because she was sure a look of pure panic flashed across her face. She only just hoped Sara didn't see it.  
  
"Like this?" Sara slid Catherine up on her toes, lifting her almost bodily, and Catherine's hands tightened on her shoulders as the space between their bodies shrank. She managed one quick glance at Sara's face, but it was back- it and almost hidden in shadow, the expression unreadable.  
  
"Yeah, like that. That would account for the scrapes on the witness," Annemarie answered excitedly, her voice a lifeline for Catherine as she resisted the temptation to close the distance between their bodies and mouths. She noticed Sara biting her lower lip and realized that Sara wasn't as unaffected as she thought. "Can you push me off now?" Sara said quietly, as Catherine's hands eased on her shoulders. She struggled against Sara's grip again, squirming around and trying to get leverage against the wall. The movement did nothing for her peace of mind, and she stopped quickly.  
  
"No, I can't throw you off from this position. You're too tall," she explained. Sara slid her back down the wall and let go of her arms. "Then how do I end up dead?"  
  
"Not by my actions, not unless you let go and I'm able to push you back then. That might have happened, but that's not what the witness is saying."  
  
"The witness lied." They both walked back over to the table, where Annemarie spread the photos out so everyone could see them. "So we've accounted for the witness's bruises and scrapes, which does not support her statement, and it also explains the bruising on the vic's shoulders." Sara snagged a photo which showed a detail of the victim's neck. "What about this?" she asked, indicating the narrow red mark. "A necklace, maybe?"  
  
"We couldn't find anything at the scene that might have caused that," Jerome piped up. "We considered some kind of ligature, but nothing was there." Catherine, meanwhile, had been flipping through the file. "Our vic is ex-military." She leaned over Sara's shoulder, unconsciously repeating her gesture from earlier in the evening, to look through the magnifying glass Sara was using to examine the marks. "Dog-tags, maybe?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, maybe," Sara muttered, reaching for another photo of the vic's back. She tapped the photo, and met Catherine's eyes, grinning. "No marks on the back of the neck." Catherine pulled herself upright quickly, and grabbed the file, looking over the witness's statement again. "Our witness had her girlfriend at the bar with her."  
  
"Really?" Catherine nodded. "A third person." Catherine nodded again, her smile meeting Sara's as they figured it out at the same time. "Annemarie, get both the witness and her girlfriend here for an interview. If at all possible, we could use a warrant to see the girlfriend's hands. Jerome, go back to the scene and try to find a necklace or dog tags hidden somewhere in the club." The two younger CSIs left in a hurry, and Sara leaned back against the table.  
  
Catherine stared at the vic's photo. "Sara, we may have missed one thing," she said, pointing down at the photo.  
  
-------------  
  
And this scene is getting too long, so I'll cut it into two. Stay tuned. 


	10. Much Ado

As always, many thanks to everyone who reviews my work. It helps keep me motivated.  
  
--------------  
  
**Much Ado**  
  
"What do you mean, we missed something?" Sara leaned in over her shoulder, trying to see the photograph Catherine was pointing to. It was an occupational hazard, the way they all got so close to one another when looking at the evidence, as if physical nearness let them someone see the same way the other saw, as if they could get inside each other's head and perspective if they could just occupy the same space. It was an occupational hazard and an occupational perk as well, Catherine thought, as the heat from Sara's body warmed her back.  
  
The photo they were staring at was a shot of the back of the victim, the one Sara had just been looking at. Catherine tapped a set of marks. "See that? Those look like finger impressions, like the witness was digging her fingers into the vic's shoulders."  
  
"Well, we knew the witness had her hands there," Sara mused, still trying to see what Catherine was seeing.  
  
"She wouldn't have dug her fingers in if she were trying to push her off. She was pulling her closer."  
  
Catherine could tell Sara's face pulled into a confused scowl by the tone of her voice. "But why would she pull an attacker closer?"  
  
"She didn't." Catherine's voice was triumphant and somewhat smug. She loved figuring out the puzzle of people's motivations and emotions, even though it meant ranging a bit afield from the evidence. "This wasn't an attack. It was... foreplay."  
  
"What?" Sara was suddenly upright, her body conveying the shock evident in her voice.  
  
Catherine turned so she faced Sara, surprised by her reaction. "Yeah, the girlfriend didn't walk into an attack, she interrupted a heavy make-out session." Sara's face was screwed up in disgust and she took a step back from where Catherine was leaning against the layout table.  
  
"But there were bruises all over those two women. That was violence."  
  
Catherine shook her head. "No, it was aggression. A little rough, maybe, but not violent," she continued in a reasonable tone, watching to see Sara's reaction. She knew Sara had an issue with violence against women in some crimes, but this seemed a bit much. Sara shook her head with vehemence. "Oh, come on, Sara, you cannot be this naïve. Or prudish."  
  
Sara's head snapped up and her dark eyes bored into Catherine's own pale ones. Catherine had obviously hit a nerve, and she knew she should stop, but the emotional release was a welcome reprieve from the tension bubbling just below the surface of their interactions, so she didn't heed the voice in her head. "Come on, you were insinuating that you had group sex with three other women just a few weeks ago."  
  
Her eyes widened and her mouth moved, but it took a long time for Sara to frame a response. Catherine let her amusement show on her face as she took in Sara's unintentionally comical expression, finally allowing a giggle to escape. That was the wrong thing to do, as Sara's expression grew stormy. "I did not insinuate any such thing." Catherine just grinned at her discomfort. "And besides, this isn't about me. This is about the case."  
  
"No, this is completely about you," Catherine retorted, the mocking tone a quiet counterpoint to Sara's angry words. "You are refusing to consider a theory of the case because you don't like that idea of..." she paused to make her next words even more dramatic, "aggressive sex." Catherine wasn't sure why she was baiting Sara, but it was definitely working, she noted, as she could almost see the anger boiling in the darkness of Sara's eyes. "What's wrong? You never tried it?" she taunted, trying to provoke a response. "Or none of the people you were with let you be the aggressor?" she asked in a flash of sudden inspiration.  
  
Sara's response was swift. One moment, Catherine was leaning against the table, several feet of institutional flooring separating them. The next, she was swept up, Sara's hands gripping her arms almost painfully as she duplicated their previous reenactments. But the sudden movement was nothing compared to the shock of Sara's lips capturing hers. Catherine instinctively tightened her grip on Sara's shoulders, dragging her closer as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss. Sara nibbled on her lower lip while her tongue teased her upper lip, ignoring Catherine's invitation. After several minutes of teasing, Catherine groaned her frustration, the sound breaking the spell.  
  
Catherine staggered back against the table behind her, the support necessary as the strong hands which had held her let go too suddenly. Sara had retreated several steps, her hand shielding her mouth, as if to distance herself from what had just happened. "Catherine, I..." she stammered, "I'm so sorry, I..." Her words were a confused jumble that lapsed into silence.  
  
It still took Catherine a moment to catch up as she tried to recover her footing, literally and figuratively. Sorry? She was sorry for the kiss? "I'm not." She closed the distance between them so she was standing in front of Sara, who was looking everywhere but at her. "I got what I wanted."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Her flippant tone did nothing to mask the bitterness in her voice. "What's that? Proof of your theory of the case?"  
  
"No," Catherine said softly, ducking her head to try to meet Sara's elusive gaze. She stretched her hand out to cup Sara's chin, stroking the soft skin with her thumb gently. Her other hand settled on Sara's hip as she stood on tiptoe to press a light kiss on Sara's mouth. "That's what I wanted," she whispered. Sara was standing, unmoving, and Catherine was suddenly afraid to open her eyes, afraid of what she might see. "Didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah." Sara's breath played over her lips as she spoke, the moment before Catherine felt her lips brush against hers. Catherine flicked her tongue out to taste Sara's lips, catching the bitter taste of coffee, as her hand slid around Sara's neck to hold her mouth there. She marveled as Sara pulled her in closer, the way her body fit perfectly, the way Sara's hands pressed against her back to hold her just so, and the way her hand immediately tangled in Sara's hair. The moment was perfect, and it was over entirely too soon.  
  
Predictably, it was Sara who tried to bring some semblance of reality. "Cath? Someone could come in." Catherine ignored her words and kissed her, trying to distract her. "We're at work."  
  
"We're on a break,"  
  
"We're the supervisors. What if someone needs us?'  
  
"They can page us," she replied sensibly, wrapping her arm around Sara's waist as she felt her try to pull away, clinging and hoping Sara didn't have to willpower to resist. Her lips twisted into a smirk as Sara rained kisses along her cheekbone to her mouth. When their pagers erupted in the quiet of the layout room, Catherine smiled ruefully at how quickly her words were confirmed.  
  
"Damn." Sara broke the embrace and glanced down at her pager. "The witness and her girlfriend are here."  
  
Catherine sighed, her frustration evident. "Back to work?"  
  
Sara chuckled before pressing one last kiss against her lips. "Yeah, back to work." Sara slowly, reluctantly, eased her hold on Catherine's waist, sliding her hands around for extra seconds of contact before letting go.  
  
"I hope Annemarie got that warrant," Catherine said, switching into work mode.  
  
"Let's go see." 


	11. About Nothing

Wow, hard to believe that The Powers That Be could mess up a good show so completely. Fire George and Jorja? Sara's the character I write all my fic about so these last couple of stories may be it. sigh  
  
-----------------------------  
  
**About Nothing**  
  
Catherine left the interview room with her camera and evidence bag, hoping she had collected enough to close the case. Annemarie was coming out of the observation room, her normal intense expression distracted and worried. She smiled when she saw Catherine, and complimented her on the interview.  
  
"Thanks," Catherine replied, her gaze fixed on the closed door behind Annemarie. "Where's Sara? I thought she was watching the interrogation with you."  
  
The reason for the young CSI's concern was made clear with her response. "She's still in there. Said she'd be out in a minute." They exchanged a worried glance. "She seemed really quiet – do you think she's over- extending herself on her first night back?"  
  
Catherine sighed. "Maybe. I'll go talk to her." She passed Annemarie the camera and bag. "Take care of these for me, will you?" At her nod, Catherine crossed to the door, pausing right before she went in, "We'll be back upstairs in about fifteen minutes, ok?"  
  
"Okay." Annemarie walked away quickly, trying to make sure she caught the rest of the team and made sure they didn't page or call either of them for at least half an hour.  
  
----------------  
  
Sara heard the door click shut, and she didn't have to raise her head to know who was in the room – she could smell Catherine's shampoo and feel her stare. She was leaning against the table, shoulders slumped and arms crossed, studying the floor with great interest, completely ignoring the strawberry blonde. As the silence stretched, the effort to keep her head down and avoid the inevitable grew more taxing. She knew she looked like a petulant child, but once she looked up, she would have to say something and she had no idea what to say. Their harmless flirtation had crossed that invisible dividing line from playful fun into serious business and she didn't know what to make of that. She had already ruined one friendship by allowing situations to go too far and she was damned if it was going to happen again.  
  
Catherine's sigh echoed in the small room. "You've had too much time to think," she said softly, moving a couple of steps into the room to see if Sara would look up. "I was afraid that might happen." Sara's shoulders tighten perceptibly and she exhaled noisily, but she stubbornly kept her eyes fixed downward. "I, ah, provoked you earlier so that you would act and not think about what you were doing."  
  
"Yeah, cuz thinking before making a mistake is always counterproductive," retorted Sara bitterly. If she had been looking up, she would have seen the pained expression that passed over Catherine's face, or the way she took a step back and caught the door handle  
  
"A mistake?"  
  
"Yeah, mistake, error, lapse in judgment. It's a good thing we were stopped before it went too far."  
  
The finality of her tone expressed itself to Catherine clearly. "Yeah," she said slowly, breathing past the lump in her throat. "It's a good thing," she managed before she opened the door and backed out, her footsteps speeding up as she hurried to make it to the locker room, feeling the burning in her eyes.  
  
---------------  
  
"So what did you do to Catherine?" asked Annemarie curiously, glancing up from the report she was writing as Sara entered the break room some time later.  
  
"What? Nothing," Sara shot back, almost groaning at the defensive tone in her voice. She poured a cup of coffee, her back to the young CSI, and hoped she would drop the subject.  
  
"It must have been something. Are you two having problems sharing the job?"  
  
Sara shot her a warning glare as she settled into a seat. "Yeah, that must be it," she sighed.  
  
"Huh." Her eyes narrowed, and Annemarie shrugged in response. "I just thought you'd be angry instead of that hangdog expression on your face. You look like a love-sick puppy." Sara choked on her coffee, jumping up and sloshing a third of it all over the table. Annemarie leaped up as well, saving her paperwork from the deluge as Sara, still coughing, grabbed a towel to stem the tide. She managed to mop up the liquid quickly, and she practically ran out of the break room, leaving her coffee and a bemused Annemarie watching her retreating back.  
  
She was elbow-deep in the backlog of paperwork when Catherine opened the door to her office almost two hours after the end of shift. "You didn't have to wait for me," she said, with just a hint of malice in her voice.  
  
"I didn't. I'm just trying to get caught up on paperwork." She scribbled a note on the pad of paper and shift her eyes back to the financial report under her hand.  
  
"You shouldn't be overdoing it your first night back." When Sara didn't reply, she continued, "Come on, let's go."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Catherine saw Sara's face looked pale in the scant light from the desk lamp, and she fought her inclination to leave Sara alone, as she so obviously wanted. Instead, she circled the desk, catching Sara's arm to force her to acknowledge her. Sara jerked her arm away as she glared. "Don't."  
  
"Then come on. We're going home." She cut Sara off as she opened her mouth to speak. "I'll stand here all night if I have to,' she threatened.  
  
-------------  
  
Catherine thrashed her way out of the covers, drenched in sweat as she awoke from another nightmare. Strong arms caught her as she struggled blindly in the dark, and she lost herself in the comfort of the warmth of Sara's body. When she came back to herself, she became aware of Sara's hands softly stroking her back and hair while a mantra of soothing words washed over her. "Shh, it's ok, darling, it's ok. Shhh," Sara whispered over and over, her breath warming Catherine's cheek. Catherine shifted in the embrace, tightening her arms around Sara's waist, her lips searching out the Sara's collarbone to press a light kiss there.  
  
"Cath..." Sara began as Catherine nibbled her way up her neck, nuzzling the soft skin with her nose. She felt the hitch in Sara's breath as she circled her ear with her tongue, and she ran a hand up her spine to catch her head as Sara tried to pull away. She gently teased her, blowing in her ear, and the shiver that ran up Sara's back answered her questions. Her tongue darted out to tickle her earlobe, wetting the skin before she blew on it, repeating this gesture over and over again as she felt Sara's hands tighten their grip on her back. Sara's eyes were squeezed closed when she tilted her head to brush her lips against hers. 


	12. Get Me

AN: And speaking of Much Ado about Nothing, TPTB reconsidered. I guess my favorite distraction, writing fics when I should be doing other work, will continue. I just re-read that last chapter and realized it was a bit short and missed some things. This should be better.  
  
Title of the chapter from the song by Everything But the Girl, "Get Me."  
  
"To know yourself is to let yourself be in love / I wanna be addictive / I wanna be secure / I wanna wake up after the night before / Do you get me? / Do you ever get me?"  
  
Oh, and this is where I earn that R rating.  
  
**Get Me**  
  
They were frozen like that, their bodies unmoving except for the slow boil that was Catherine's blood pumping through her body. Their lips still touched, Sara's arms were still around her waist, and her hands still grasped Sara's hips tightly. She was afraid to break the moment, afraid to let Sara go, Catherine realized, afraid that if she did, Sara would retreat behind the wall that she had thrown up earlier. She really learned a thing or two from Gil about cutting herself off from her emotions, didn't she, Catherine thought.  
  
"Tell me." Sara's voice was soft, reassuring yet commanding. Catherine wasn't sure she heard her at first, wasn't sure what she was asking when she did figure out that Sara had spoken. "Tell me about your nightmare," Sara breathed against her lips in the ensuing silence. Once again, she had been woken by Catherine, and she had paniced when she had reached out and Catherine wasn't there. It took her a moment to remember that Catherine had gone into the guest room when they had returned from work, a not-so-subtle slap in the face, but that hadn't stopped her from hurrying to the room as she heard Catherine crying and yelling.  
  
Sanity had re-inserted itself when she reached the door, pausing in the doorway when she saw that Catherine was still asleep, tangled in the sheets, the sheen of sweat on her face evident even in the faint hallway light. She hesitated, there, one hand on the doorframe, caught in her indecision. Not for the first time that night she wondered when had she become so indecisive and timid. But then Catherine had shot up in bed, eyes wide and unseeing, and nothing could stop her from crossing to the bed and gathering her in her arms.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"It's you," Catherine whispered, so quietly she was sure Sara wouldn't hear, but she knew she would. Her body had stopped trembling from the aftermath of the nightmare, but she could feel another trembling beginning in her stomach as Sara's hands continued to caress her back through the light cotton of her t-shirt. "I keep... seeing you..." Catherine paused as an image from her dream bubbled up. Sara's face, pale and bruised, in the sweep of the light from her torch. "In the trunk. I found you, you know," she said, almost conversationally, "at the scene."  
  
Sara hadn't known that; she had tried to avoid reading the reports and files, she hadn't wanted anyone to think that she was checking up on them, and she especially didn't want to think of herself as the victim. So she hadn't known many details, just made sure the evidence was all in order, and avoided everything else.  
  
"I saw the keys on the ground. When the trunk opened...." Again, words failed her as Catherine tried to explain. "You were so pale. I thought you were dead." She closed her eyes, reliving that moment when she felt a faint pulse under her fingertips. "In the dream, it's just like that. The lid pops up, I reach out to feel for a pulse, and there's nothing. Your skin is cold. And just when I'm about to start screaming, the whole sequence begins again. I'm arriving at the scene, I see the keys...It's never any different. You're dead, every time." She finished shakily, her eyes still closed.  
  
Sara's fingers circled her chin, bringing her eyes up to her own. "Hey, hey, it's ok. I'm ok. Still here, see?" Her eyes darkened by her memories, Catherine tried but failed to meet Sara's light tone. "You almost weren't," she said sadly. Sara caught her hand and raised it to her neck, pressing her fingers over her pulse. "Feel that? Me, alive and well because of you."  
  
Catherine let the rhythm of Sara's pulse lull her into an almost doze, her own heartbeat matching the beat she felt under her fingertips. When she spoke again, it was almost to herself, absentmindedly reliving the memory of the crime scene. "I thought I had lost you." That's when her eyes finally locked onto Sara's, as a sudden realization struck. "I can't do that again." Sara's expression creased into a frown as she puzzled over Catherine's last remark, her dark eyes clouded. She thought that Catherine had come to the same realization she had earlier, that they couldn't let whatever odd attraction they felt go any further, that they couldn't let it ruin their emerging friendship.  
  
Lost in thought, it took her a while to notice Catherine's fingers were tracing a slow, lazy circle from her hip, down along her thigh, and back up again, or that her thumb was caressing her neck where her fingers still pressed against her pulse. The look of amusement on Catherine's face, amusement laced with a certain predatory lust that took her breath away, made her realize that she was completely wrong in her interpretation.  
  
Catherine watched the comprehension dawn on Sara and felt her stomach contract as she sucked in a sharp breath, her own mouth curving into a smirk in answer to Sara's wide-eyed expression. She shifted just slightly, closing the distance between their bodies, and she felt the pulse beneath her fingers speed up percipably. She took her time sliding her body up Sara's, enjoying the conflict between fear and desire she could see in Sara's eyes and the way she bit her lower lip before unconsciously running her tongue between them. Her lips poised a whispers-breadth away from Sara's, Catherine hesitated, stretching the moment to see how long her endurance would hold.  
  
It held longer than Sara's, as her arms tightened to pull Catherine closer, their lips meeting in a smoldering kiss. Catherine's gasp of surprise opened her mouth to Sara's insistent tongue, darting in and out to caress her lips and war with her tongue. A moan rumbled low in her throat and she felt Sara's lips curve into a smile against her own. Determined not to be outdone, Catherine snaked her hand up under Sara's t-shirt, playing her fingers lightly over her spine before digging her nails into the tender skin. Sara's gasp was muffled by their kiss, her back arching under Catherine's fingers as they began another trip up her spine.  
  
Sara nibbled on Catherine's lower lip, biting down hard when Catherine dug her fingernails in again, loving Catherine's low moan as her tongue teased the tender lip. They sparred, tongues and hands tangling in their urgency to drive the other crazy. Sara managed to pull Catherine's shirt off an instant before Catherine tugged her shirt over her head, and she had just a moment to marvel at the beauty of Catherine's lithe body before any ability to think was drowned in the feeling of their bodies pressing together again.  
  
Catherine fell back on the bed, pulling Sara down on top of her, keeping bodies and lips locked tight, before Sara pushed up on her hands to kiss and lick her cheekbones, eyelids, and neck. She discovered that Catherine sighed in pleasure when she sucked at the tender skin of her neck, and that she squirmed when she licked her ear. She also discovered that fingernails were both a blessing and a curse as Catherine ran her hands down her back, distracting her every time. Catherine fought to catch her mouth as it passed over from one check to the other, finally bringing a hand up to hold her head steady so she could drown in another scorching kiss.  
  
Sara's exploration continued down to Catherine's quivering stomach and back up again, avoiding much more than a tender kiss on each breast, smiling against her skin at Catherine's strangled curse. She continued with light, teasing kisses as Catherine squirmed under her hands and mouth, until Catherine flipped her over with a sound in between a curse and a growl. She laughed as Catherine glared at her, until Catherine discovered how incredibly sensitive her ears were and she bit her lower lip, completely lost in the sensation.  
  
-------------------  
  
She woke, puzzled by how the light from the window striped the wall until she remembered that she was in the guest bedroom. The heaviness that held her down resolved itself into Catherine's head, arm, and leg, as she lay on her side, curled around Sara's body. Sara let the moment of pure panic fade as quickly as it came as she remembered the events of the night. That's how Catherine first saw her, her mouth curved into the sweetest smile Catherine had ever seen as her fingers twisted in the soft curls of her hair on the pillow. It had taken Catherine all of her courage to open her eyes, scared that once she did, Sara would bolt from the bed.  
  
The happy smile on Sara's face made her bold. "Morning," she whispered, breaking the silence. Sara pressed a kiss against the top of her head in reply, and continued playing with her hair. "Hungry?" she asked, finally.  
  
Catherine chuckled at how Sara always had an appetite, but then realized how empty her stomach felt. They had slept through at least one meal, she was sure. "Starving."  
  
-----------------  
  
Annemarie watched and wondered at the change in Catherine and Sara as they walked into the break room, laughing, sharing a amused grins and light touches on the arm as Sara poured and fixed coffee for them both and Catherine flipped through the assignment slips. The meeting was over quickly, and she and Jerome were the last to leave as they finished their coffee. "So...." Jerome began, drawing the word out with an exaggerated drawl., "do you think they finally did it?"  
  
"Huh?" Annemarie's confusion was complete. "Who? Did what?" When Jerome wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and glanced in the direction of Sara's office, she sat up, her mouth snapping shut with a click as she realized who and what he meant. "You think..." she began, but as soon as the suggestion registered, the tension of the last shift suddenly made a whole lot of sense. "Oh." She giggled, hating how she sounded like a schoolgirl, but unable to control it.  
  
Jerome shook his head at her in disbelief. "You mean you watched that reenactment last night and didn't see that? You should be more observant," he said in mock-disappointment.  
  
"Hey!" She slapped him affectionately on the shoulder. "I was working,. You know, what you should have been doing." She chuckled again, glancing at the closed door of Sara's office. "Come on, we've got a scene to process."  
  
TBC 


	13. Your Next Bold Move

And here comes the angst....  
  
**Your Next Bold Move **

"Sidle." Sara's voice was clipped and abrupt as she answered the phone, the call obviously interrupting her. Gil glanced down at his watch; it was at least two hours before she started work, so he didn't know what he could be interrupting.

"Sara? It's, um, Gil." He stumbled over his own name, unsure as to whether to use his first or last. Personal call, he thought , so make it personal.

"Gil?" The incredulous note in her voice startled him, and he almost hung up the phone right then and there. "What.... what are you...." Her words sputtered to a stop and he wished he knew what he had interrupted. Had he woken her? She wasn't normally at such a loss for words. "Why are you calling?" She finally got the harsh clip to her tone smoothed out into a quiet puzzlement. "Is something wrong?"

"Um, no, no, of course not." He had a sudden urge to take off his glasses and clean them, to give him time to think, as he always needed when he had to talk to Sara about anything beyond work. When confronted by her, he would remove his glasses, remove the slight fuzziness his reading glasses imposed on his vision of her, and try hard to read the undercurrent of emotion in her body and face. It had never worked; she had always taken him by surprise, but he kept trying anyway. But now, he was the one confronting her and he had spent the last hour planning what he was going to say, so the distancing maneuver was never more unnecessary.

"I just called to see how you were doing." He had done this twice before in the last three weeks, trying to be a friend to her again as he had been before she had moved to Las Vegas, and their conversations had been stilted, filled with awkward silences, but slowly seeming more natural and friendly.

Sara didn't sound friendly now. "Oh." A long pause punctuated her words. "I, um, actually, I'm in the middle of, uh, getting ready to take a shower. Can I call you back later tonight?"

"Oh, of course," he said hastily, now anxious to get off the phone.

"Ok, I'll talk to you soon," she said, obviously as anxious as he was.

------------

Catherine collapsed into giggles as soon as Sara closed her cell phone, laughing so hard she was soon gasping for breath. Sara glared at her for a moment, before reveling in the sight of Catherine naked, stretched out, and twisted in the sheets. "I'm glad you found that funny," she muttered dryly, setting off fresh peals of laughter.

"I can't believe you didn't," Catherine replied finally, wiping at the tears in the corners of her eyes. She recollected the way Sara sat straight up in bed, yelping out Gil's name, her eyes as wide as saucers, and she giggled again.

Sara shook her head in disgust. "As funny as a bucket of cold water at the same moment would have been." She shuddered, her expression comical in distaste. "That was like having my parents walk in on me having sex."

Catherine rolled over so that her head rested on Sara's smooth stomach, her fingers tickling her hip and still smiling broadly at the image of Gil walking in on them. "I guess that ruined the mood, huh?"

"A little," she admitted sheepishly. "And we should fix dinner and eat before we get to work."

Catherine shifted so she could meet Sara's eyes, a mischievous expression on her face. "What, you mean you don't want to stop for Chinese food again?" she asked, referring to the fact that they had grabbed something on the way to work every night for the last four shifts, and was rewarded with a blush heating Sara's face. Her face twisted, her frown slowly giving way to a cross between a grin and a smirk before a full-out smile. "How about an omelet?"

"Mmmm, sounds good." Catherine sat up, letting the sheet fall as she stretched, feeling Sara's eyes take in every inch. "I'll shower first, then." Deliberately ignoring her robe in the chair by the bed, Catherine headed to the bathroom to the sound of Sara's teasing groan of frustration.

------------

Work was quiet that night, especially since they had finished the case file review the previous night. Jerome was teaching Jeremy and Kesha a card game while Annemarie read a recent forensic journal while Catherine checked her email. She couldn't believe that she was leaving for Vegas in two days; although she missed Lindsey terribly, she knew she didn't want to leave San Francisco and Sara. They hadn't talked much since that first night together and instead had spent as much time together, touching, in bed, on the couch while watching tv, in the shower. It was as if they were trying to store up against when Catherine had to leave; Catherine felt like she was walking through a fog, wrapped in a fantasy with the hard edges of reality blurred and obscured. Talking about what was happening would break that feeling, and so they hadn't. Catherine tried to concentrate on replying to Nick's email with enthusiasm but she knew when she talked about returning to Vegas, it had to sound forced. Catherine took in Sara's closed office door again, and sighed.

Annemarie chuckled. "The only thing worse than a decomp is a slow night, huh?"

"Yeah," Catherine replied, a comical note of agony in her voice. Sara had tried to send her home when it became apparent that the suspicious circs was a cut-and-dry accident and that the suspect in their murder case from the previous night was either so stupid or guilt-ridden that he had neglected to throw out the bloody clothes or even scrub his hands thoroughly.

Sara's door opened, and everyone perked up, turning with looks of anticipation that turned into frowns when she smiled at their attention, but then shook her head. "Annemarie, how much overtime do you have this month?"

"Only fifteen hours so far," she replied, defensively, since it was barely into the third week. Her eyebrows knit together as she took in Sara's knowing smile.

"Clock out, go home. Comp time." Annemarie scowled but then nodded. "Who else is over time?" Jerome didn't say anything; he just started gathering up his stuff, following Annemarie out the door.

"I'm not over that much," Jeremy said. "Yeah, me either," Kesha echoed.

"Ok, then, get caught up on your reading and see if there are any courses you want to sign up for in the next month. You both need more professional development activities for evaluation and promotion." Jeremy blushed a little and grabbed the journal that Annemarie had set down.

Sara leaned on the table by Catherine, taking advantage of her height to get a good look down Catherine's low-cut blouse. "Cath? You want to head home?" Catherine reveled in the effect she had as she stretched and leaned back and saw the appreciative look in Sara's dark eyes. She really didn't think she would ever get tired of that, she thought, as she felt a familiar tingle travel down her spine. And she really hoped Sara never did, as her fingers itched to touch her. "You need any help with your paperwork?" she asked, suggestively, as Sara threw a quick look at her young CSIs to see if they had picked up on Catherine's tone.

"Um, no," she replied, firmly, although a grin teased at the corners of her lips. "I actually finally caught Grissom on the phone."

"Yeah? What did he want?"

"He wants to come to San Francisco for a visit."

Catherine's chair snapped forward. "He what?" Her voice was louder than she had intended, and both Jerome and Kesha looked over in alarm, both heads ducking immediately back to whatever book they had at Sara's upraised eyebrow.

Turning back to Catherine, she sighed. "He's coming here for a weekend. After you get back to Vegas. He didn't ask to come," she explained hastily. "He's already booked his flight and hotel." Catherine opened her mouth a couple of times, about to say something, stopping herself each time. The confusion and anger she saw on her face was mirrored on her own; she had sat in her office for half an hour after hanging up with Gil, trying to make sense of the fragmented and awkward conversation and her own response to it.

"Why didn't you tell him to cancel his reservations?" She had asked herself the same question, and her answer had been the same: she shook her head helplessly, as she didn't understand herself. "I don't know." But deep down, she did. She wanted to see him. She cursed his timing, his audacity, but she couldn't help the tiny spark of hope that had flared when he told her his plans.

The blue of Catherine's eyes froze her heart. "I... see," she said finally.

"Cath..."

"You know, maybe I will go home. I'm suddenly very tired." She tried to make her voice sound conversational, but it sounded flat even to her ears. "Is that ok?"

Sara's shoulder's slumped as she studied Catherine's face. "Yeah, sure."

------------

She found Catherine at her house, pacing, a half-empty bottle of vodka on the kitchen island. "How could you?" Catherine's throat was raw from the alcohol and the yelling she had directed at the absent Sara. "HOW could you?"

Sara leaned against the island, her hands gripping so hard her knuckles turned white. "What could I have done?" Her tone was resigned, defeated. She felt trapped between Catherine and Gil, their wants, needs, and desires blocking her in; she couldn't figure out her own emotions right now, much less deal with Catherine's or Gil's.

"I don't know, told him not to come?"

"That would have been rude, Cath," she tried to explain, but her reasons sounded lame even to her ears.

"Since when has that stopped you?" Catherine demanded, oblivious to Sara's glare. "You want him to come," she accused through clenched teeth. She faced off with Sara, like a boxer, only it was her words that jabbed at the raw emotions churning in Sara's stomach.

"No! Maybe. I don't know. He's just coming here as a friend."

"Did you tell him that?" she snapped.

"What did you want me to tell him?" Sara snapped back, her own temper rising to meet Catherine's. "Oh, hey, Gris, come on up, but you should know I'm sleeping with Catherine."

"Sleeping together? Is that all we're doing?"

"Is it? You tell me." The words, and the venom behind them, stunned Catherine into silence. "We're fucking, but we haven't talked about what that means. Or tried to define it. Are we in a relationship? Are you my girlfriend? Should I tell Gil that? Can I?" The rush of words stopped as suddenly as they began, and her knees buckled; she was just a few minutes from a total collapse. She knew Catherine's reluctance to talk about what was happening between them had been wearing on her, but she hadn't realized how much it had bothered her.

"I... don't know." She raised her head slowly and met Catherine's eyes, surprised to them bright with unshed tears. Biting her lower lip, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yeah, me either," she admitted. They took a step forward at the same time, hugging fiercely. Catherine pressed her face against the fabric of Sara's shirt and tried to keep from sobbing her hurt and frustration while Sara wrapped her arms around her shoulders and rested her cheek on Catherine's blond hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. "I'm sorry, hon," she whispered against the silky strands, "this just all came up so suddenly. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Catherine nodded against her shoulder. "Tired?"

A ghost of a laugh drifted down to her. "Exhausted."


	14. Faithful

Chapter titled for the Me'shell Ndegeochello song, "Faithful."

_No one is faithful  
I am weak  
I'll go astray  
Forgive me for my ways  
No one is faithful_  
  
**Faithful**

The silence as they ate was deafening, neither wanting to be the first one to break it and begin the conversation. So they tiptoed around each other, voices muted, as they worked through the logistics of breakfast and showers. Catherine caught Sara watching her when she thought she wasn't looking, the expression in her dark eyes sad and melancholy. Catherine knew that when she stared at Sara's turned back, the pain that she couldn't quite hide leached out every other emotion. Catherine didn't know why the very thought of Grissom coming for a visit made it hard to breathe, but of course she did. Gil had a hold on Sara she knew she could never match, and if he wanted to begin the relationship that Sara had wanted all along, she, Catherine, had no chance. What she couldn't figure out was why that hurt so much, why she cared so much. She had had a lot of relationships and none of them meant anything. This should be no different, she rationalized, and if it hadn't been for that little hitch in her breath, she really would have believed it.

When Sara suggested they go for a walk on the beach, they both knew the time for dancing around the subject had come to an end. They ended up on an isolated, rocky stretch of beach, and Catherine would have laughed at the symbolism if she had been in the mood to laugh. Sara didn't seem to notice the surroundings, walking slowly along the edge of the surf, staring at the waves as they crashed over her feet. When she stopped abruptly and faced the wind coming in off the water, whipping her auburn hair, Catherine had to retreat a couple of steps to stand beside her. When she spoke, her words took Catherine by surprise.

"This was always my favorite place to come to think, you know, when I worked here before. I would come here every time a case got to me or the days started to run together into a never-ending stream of death, I would come here." She glanced over at Catherine, before facing the ocean once more. "I would stand right here and face the wind and let the water roll over my feet and it was like it was all washed away. The wind and water just took away my burdens. I haven't been back here in years." She turned and took Catherine's hand, squeezing it gently. "I never brought anyone here before, but I had this sudden urge to show you."

She had never heard Sara talk so personally before, and Catherine was touched. It sounded like a confession to Catherine's ears, but she wasn't sure to what. "These last few days have been so unexpected, and so wonderful." But now it sounded like goodbye. Catherine drew in a breath to steel herself against what was coming. "You were right. I want to see Gil." Catherine's eyes squeezed closed at the words impacted. "But I don't know what that means."

Sara knew her words, her honesty, hurt, but she didn't know anything else to do. "I don't know what that means..." she repeated, "for us. Or for Gil." The roar of the surf filled the silence that stretched between them. "Tell me." Catherine opened her eyes in surprise at Sara's pleading tone, matched by the expression in her eyes. She reached up and brushed Catherine's hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering at the base of neck, warming the chill skin. "Tell me what's between us, what we're doing...."

Catherine's thoughts swirled. Me, she wants me to define this, to tell her what to do about Gil. If I say so, she realized, Sara will tell Gil we're together and that there's no chance. Catherine exhaled slowly, stepping in to brush her lips over Sara's, before meeting her eyes. "I can't." She couldn't believe what she was saying. "You have to figure this out for yourself." She let go of Sara's hand reluctantly, and continued down the beach, leaving Sara to watch the rolling surf alone.

------------

They threw her a party that night, at the beginning of shift, complete with chocolate cake and ice cream. Catherine was surprised to realize just how much she would miss the 'kids,' as she and Sara affectionately called the younger CSIs among themselves. She would also miss the relaxed, noncompetitive atmosphere of the lab, a result of the teamwork and communication Sara taught to her CSIs. Such a marked contrast to what she was used to, and she had to admit, it was a welcome change. She just hoped she could adjust to her old environment, get the walls and defenses up and in place quickly. It wasn't going to be easy.

The shift was hectic, and she and Sara had no time to do much more than fix breakfast and cuddle for a few minutes on the couch before Catherine had to be at the airport. Catherine surprised herself by clutching Sara's hand until the very last minute, when they had to part at the security checkpoint. Sara surprised her even more with a very public kiss that sent her head spinning and made her wish they had had more time before leaving the house that morning. The look in Sara's eyes told her she had the same thought, and one kiss became two, then three, before Catherine noticed the stares of the people around them, and then the time. "I have to go," she sighed, feeling her cheeks heat as an older couple glared at them. "And I can't believe I'm making out with you like a teenager in public." Sara laughed at that, and then gave her another toe-curling kiss before winking at the elderly lady. "What do they expect? This is San Francisco." Separating from Sara, Catherine finally made it through security, waving one last time before the brunette was out of her sight. And of course the elderly couple was seated across the aisle from her. But when she glanced over at them to see if they were staring at her, the lady gave her a shy smile before returning to her Redbook.

------------

For all it's glitter, Vegas seemed strangely dull and muted to Catherine's eyes. Her first night back to work and she got a trick roll on the Strip. She processed the guy, who insisted, like they all did, that he never did this and that he was faithful to his wife. Always was, except for this one time. Catherine had tried to look sympathetic, but she didn't think she did a very good job of it. She wondered if the wife was sitting at home or suspected her husband, or was even in bed with the grocery delivery man. The only good thing about a trick roll, she thought, was the evidence collection was quick, and she could escape the glitter and infidelity and return to the lab.

Which was its own kind of hell, she realized as she caught Gil smiling and whistling in the break room, looking so happy she wanted to slap him. Suddenly everywhere she looked, she was reminded of Sara, even though Sara hadn't been in the lab now for almost a year. But worse, she was reminded of Sara and Gil, the agonizing looks, the flirtatious comments, like the time early on when she asked him to tape her up, and Gil, in a moment of unexpected lightheartedness, turned to her and said, "I love my job." At the time it was cute, the bugman pursued by the headstrong young CSI, their playfulness matched only by their intensity in working the job. But that had changed, as the pursuit became too rough and too long for even someone as stubborn as Sara, and the light and playfulness had seeped from her body and eyes, leaving her a shell of her former self. And now that she had escaped that, had moved on or so Catherine had thought, now he was turning the tables and pursuing, and everything about his manner indicated that he thought the result was a foregone conclusion.

He's probably right, she thought as she sipped her coffee, the acid burning her stomach. Nick and Warrick came in, joining her at the table, and she let the smiles they directed at her warm her chilled heart. But of course, they had to pepper her with questions about Sara and San Francisco, so it wasn't really a reprieve at all. When she told them how easily she and Sara had gotten along and lived together, Nick explained in an incredulous voice, "Sara? Really?"

That got to be a pattern, like when she told them about how Sara and Lindsey bonded and what a great babysitter she had been, it was Warrick's turn to look like she was describing an alternative universe Sara. Or when she told them what an accomplished cook Sara was, even Gil had looked puzzled. And the sports equipment and her people skills and the way her CSIs adored her as their boss. In the recitation, Catherine realized what a different person Sara had become since she had left, or had hidden from them the whole time she had been in Vegas. She recalled Sara standing on the beach, the wind and the waves, and realized that Sara was at home there, among the swirling currents, in a way that she had never been at home here in the oppressive heat and blinding sun of the desert. Vegas had been so bad for her in so many ways, Catherine thought, as her eyes drifted to Gil. So many ways.

The weekend finally came and Gil was updating her on everything in his office before he boarded the plane. He looked years younger, so happy and excited, and she couldn't help but try to bring him down a little. "Sooo," she said on a long slow exhalation, "what do you think is going to happen in Frisco?

He looked sheepish as he glanced at her over his reading glasses. "I really don't know. We have a lot of things to talk about."

She frowned, and gave him a knowing look. "Let me rephrase that, what do you want to happen?"

Confronted, he blushed, he actually blushed, to her utter amazement. "I want... to be her friend again. And see what else we might be to one another." Her heart sank, and she blinked rapidly.

"Well, good," she said, a little too brightly. "Are we done? I should get to my scene." He tilted his head, questioning her subtly, but then he shook his head and let her go. He had a plane to catch, after all.

------------

The day had been marvelous. Sara had taken him to Fisherman's Wharf and they had had a wonderful lunch, strolling and shopping and doing tourist-y things that he never would have imagined he would have enjoyed. But then, the company probably had a lot to do with it. Sara wasn't completely at ease with him, and there were many awkward silences, but she seemed relaxed enough, and having a good time. His only regret is that at no point did she turn to him with that huge, face-transforming, 100-watt smile that did such damage to him when it was directed at him. She had let him take her hand while they strolled along a boardwalk, their fingers entertwined between them. At one point, he had looked down at their hands and wondered why it had taken him so long. It was perfect.

Sara cooked dinner for them at her house, after dragging him to a farmer's market for fresh vegetables for soup, and their conversation over dinner was as light as the bottle of white wine he had opened for them. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to be more, if he should bring up the past, or even the future he imagined, or just enjoy the quiet friendship that Sara seemed to be reveling in. Her eyes, over the candles, were dark and smoky, like the jazz that swirled around them, but he couldn't read the emotions there. Once, he would have known the emotions there, love, desire, the emotions she had always held for him. Then there was the pain and hurt that had taken over, but now, there were entirely new thoughts going on behind her eyes, and he had no idea what.

They were watching an old movie, quietly enjoying the moment, when he found himself needing... her. He hadn't come here to renew their friendship, but to have the relationship they had both always wanted. He was suddenly nervous, but confident as he causally draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer, feeling her unconsciously snuggle into the warmth of his body. When the movie ended, she blinked and shifted to sit up, but his arm tightened to keep her there, and she looked up at him, her hand lightly braced on his chest. "Gil...?"

"Sara, I..." And for once, he didn't want to talk, to tiptoe around something that had been the elephant in the room for almost fifteen years, since they had met on the Harvard campus. Instead of trying to finish his thought, he leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet, light kiss.

TBC...

-----------

_I can't promise you love  
I can't promise you me  
In my heart of hearts  
I yearn to fly_  
- Me'shell Ndegeochello, "Liliquoi Moon" 


	15. Loyalty

Titled for another Me'shell Ndegeochello song. And wow, this is a dialogue-heavy chapter. As always, thanks for the kind reviews. At times a bit too kind – you all know you can be more critical, right? How else do we learn, after all?

**Loyalty **

Catherine sat in the break room, waiting for Warrick, Nick, and Greg, absentmindedly staring at her cell phone. Sara had called her twice since she had left San Francisco, but she knew there was no way Sara would call her tonight, not with Grissom there. Toying with the buttons, she noticed the time, 10:32, and imagined what they were doing, until the images became too painful for her to contemplate. She slid her hands through her hair, hanging her head and wishing the muscles in her neck would miraculously loosen. Then strong, warm hands caressed her neck and began kneading the tight muscles. She didn't even have to look up. "Mmmm, Warrick. If I pay you, will you never stop doing that?" she purred as his fingers worked their usual magic.

"Wow, Cath, you are tense. The pressure of command getting to you already?" he teased gently. Sweeping a few strands of hair out of his way, he worked up one side of her neck and down the other, hearing her low moan of appreciation. "So what's going on?" he asked quietly.

"What's going on what?"

"You tell me." His deep voice expressed his concern clearly. "You've been looking considerably more stressed every day since you've been back. And a couple of times I've caught you shooting daggers at our esteemed leader when his back was turned." He chuckled softly. "What, you got too used to being the boss up there in San Francisco?"

San Francisco, where Grissom was with Sara. She sighed. "No, it's not... work. Something else."

"Lindsey?"

She shook her head as his hands worked the tightness between her shoulder blades, where stress tended to accumulate. "No, not Lindsey."

"Wow."

Catherine half-turned her head to try to meet his eye. "What?"

"Well, he must be something, whoever this new guy is." He caught her narrowed eyes and explained, "I've never seen you like this about someone since, well, since ever. It must be something special."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Maybe?"

She sighed, letting all of her frustration show. "Well, I think so. I'm just not sure what the other person thinks."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. Why would I?"

He chuckled at that. For all her experience with people, Catherine didn't always seem to understand them. Or else she judged their motivations according to her own way of handling people. "Well, sometimes it helps." He chuckled again at the thoughtful look on her face. "Cath, we all have our insecurities. We all think we're alone in our feelings. And if it's enough to cause this much tension in your shoulders, then maybe it's important enough to talk about." Warrick shrugged his shoulders, leaning down so his sparkling green eyes met her suddenly vivid blues ones.

Her smile lit the entire break room. "Warrick, I have to make a call."

------------

Sara pulled away as her phone rang, the timid kiss still burning on her lips as she fumbled for her phone. She finally got it on the third ring, right before the call was answered by her voice mail.

"Sidle.

Catherine let out the breath she had been holding when it took so long for Sara to answer. Her voice didn't sound aggravated at being disturbed, which settled the butterflies in Catherine's stomach somewhat. "Sara. Look, I know he's there and you really can't talk." Catherine's words poured out in a rush. "I.... I just need to tell you something. On the beach, I was right, you know. I can't define this for you. You do have to make that decision on your own. But I should have told you something...." She took a huge breath. Here goes. "I want it, whatever 'it' is... however we want to define it.... I want it... with you. Whatever else is going on right now, I need you to know that."

Catherine wasn't sure she had made any sense, and the long pause stretched her nerves to the breaking point. Catherine thought for a second that Sara had hung up, until she heard a soft exhalation. "Yeah, me too." Another pause, shorter this time. "I... have to go. I'll call you?"

"You better."

A quiet chuckle reached her ears. "I will." And then Catherine was holding a dead line, but with a huge smile slowly playing across her face. She turned, caught Warrick watching her through the glass, and she gave him the thumbs-up. He shook his head in amusement at her blindness, and mimed looking at the time.

"Who was that?" Gil's question cut through Sara's chaotic thoughts as she stood there, clutching the closed cell phone in both hands. She could still hear Catherine's voice echoing in her ears, 'I want it, whatever it is.'

"Reality," she answered, unthinking.

"Reality?" He stared at her back, unsure of what had just happened. It had been an odd phone call; Sara had barely spoken, just listened intently to whatever whoever was saying, before hanging up. It had taken less than a minute, but whatever had transpired equated to a monumental shift if Sara's body language was any indication.

"Gil? Do you remember what I said when I asked you out to dinner?" She was still facing the window, away from him, but in the darkness outside her pale face was clearly reflected. The expression on her face had gone from conflicted to peaceful, in the blink of an eye, the lines suddenly smoothing along her forehead.

Then he remembered what she had told him, and his blood froze in his veins. "You said..." he stumbled over the words, his mouth suddenly dry and tongue clumsy, "by the time I figure it out, it really could be too late."

She turned then, to face him; like so many other times, she was standing over him, telling him something, while he sat and listened in puzzlement, always, it seemed, trying to play catch up. The sadness in her voice might have given him hope, except for the firm resolve underneath her words. "It really is." She dipped her head, bringing both hands up to smooth her hair back behind her ears, hanging her head down for a second, before she sighed. "I'm sorry."

He tried to comprehend and frame a reply, but his stunned mind refused to make sense of the abrupt turn of events. One moment he figured out what he really wanted and next it was taken from him. She was speaking again, and he had to concentrate to hear her words through the din in his head. "I'm, I, there's someone else. I... it's so new, we..." Her words sputtered to a stop. She hated when she sounded like a stammering idiot, so she took a deep breath and tried to frame a half-way coherent sentence while Gil squeezed his eyes shut as her words washed over him, so quiet to be so lethal. "I need to follow this where it goes..."

"See what happens?" he asked bitterly, parroting her words from two years back to her.

"Yes."

"So why did we..." He couldn't finish that thought, how could she have let him hope, "why am I here?"

"You wanted to come," she replied simply. "You didn't ask." She sighed, running her hands roughly through her hair, angry at herself and this situation he had put her in. If he had only ignored her like he had for years, she thought. "I guess we should have talked."

"Yes, you might have told me so I wouldn't have come all the way up here to make a fool of myself." His outburst shocked and surprised even him, but then he saw the anger boiling up behind Sara's narrowed eyes, and he knew his outburst was nothing compared to what was to come.

"This is my fault?" Her voice was surprisingly mild. "You come up here, with all kinds of expectations, and when it doesn't work out the way you want, you blame me?" Sara shook her head with those short, jerky movements that indicated just how angry she was.

"It's just that, after all this time..." He shook his head, hopelessly.

"You thought I'd still be waiting? I waited for years, Gil." She sank down to the couch beside him, all the fight suddenly out of her. "When I left Vegas, I left that behind me. I left you, Gil. I can't go back, especially when I don't know if tomorrow you'll decide you don't want this and push me away again. I can't do that. I won't do that." Her sigh filled the sudden quiet between them. "Even if this other person wasn't in the picture, I don't think I could."

"I love you," he pleaded.

Her head dropped, her fingers holding it up, her eyes closed. "Great." She let the silence stretch, until she realized she had nothing more to say. "Gil, you should go. Maybe we can talk tomorrow." She didn't look up until the door slammed as he left. Her exhalation cut through the quiet of the room a second before her cell phone rang, Annemarie's number flashing on the display.

---------------

Catherine flung open the door and switched on the lights, trying to keep her hold on the package under her arm. "Catherine?" The low voice startled her, and she jumped, losing her grip on the precarious bundle which tumbled to the floor with a crunch. "Jesus, Gil," she yelled, dropping to her knees to retrieve the new bicycle helmet she had been trying to carry while her hands had been busy with the wrapping paper and tape. "You scared me. Why are you sitting here in the dark?" she asked absentmindedly before she froze, raising her head so she could see Gil over the corner of his desk. "Wait, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in San Francisco?"

"I, um, decided to come home early." Her narrowed eyes took in the dark circles under his eyes, the rumpled shirt, and the faraway stare, and her heart dropped for her friend at the same time it began to beat happily for herself. Catherine avoided the topic of Sara, afraid some of the happiness she was feeling would show on her face or in her voice, and directed the conversation to work. "So are you going to work shift tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, then I'll take my wrapping to the break room," she said, gathering her stuff. He nodded, his eyes still fixed somewhere out at the middle distance. He seemed so patently miserable that Catherine relented a little, and ventured to ask, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." When he didn't say anything else for a long minute, she turned to leave.

"Catherine?" he called to her back. "Catherine, was Sara... did you know... is Sara... seeing someone?" Her mouth hung open in amazement. Sara didn't tell him, did she? He kept talking, oblivious to her shocked expression. "She said there was someone else. I... think she was telling me the truth, but... maybe she just said that to hurt me, to get me back." He looked up at her for the first time, a hopeful expression on his face as Catherine tried to school her face into a neutral expression, "Did you meet someone while you were staying with her?"

"I, um.... I think she went on a date shortly before I left. I think it was just starting." She tried to be as honest as possible without disclosing how much she knew.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

He was back to staring into the distance, or at the fetal pig on the metal shelving unit, not really noticing her in the room. "I'll see you in the break room," she muttered as she made her escape.

She even managed to get into the room without dropping her packages a second time, where she poured herself a cup of coffee and started to wrap Lindsey's new bike helmet, bought as a surprise present as Lindsey had been dropping hints that her old Powerpuff Girls helmet wasn't exactly cool anymore and could she have a blue one like Sara? Catherine used the quiet routine soothe her as she speculated on what had happened in Frisco between the two of them. Intent on her work and the thoughts going through her head, she didn't even notice Warrick walk into the break room and pour a cup of coffee until he tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped for the second time that night and glared up at Warrick's amused grin.

"Damn, Cath, you were off in la-la land." He laughed at her grimace, and reached out, taking the scissors out of her hand. "Maybe you shouldn't be wielding such dangerous weapons when you are obviously not all here." He started to cut the paper anew, cutting past the lopsided cuts Catherine had inflicted on the paper. "So were you thinking about him again?"

"Who?"

"Your new guy."

"Kinda." He read her look of annoyance and decided not to pursue this line of questioning. "Hey, why are you doing this in the break room anyway? Why aren't you in the boss's office?"

"Grissom's back." She hoped her tone would be read as concern for her friend, and not confusion about what his return meant for her.

"Really?" Warrick's tone was definitely concerned, as any good friend would be, she thought bitterly. He looked over his shoulder, checking the door of the break room behind them. "Do you know what happened?"

She sighed, wishing the exhalation would get rid of her guilt and maybe, just maybe, just a little bit of the joy she felt bubbling up, threatening to overtake her. "I think Sara is seeing someone."

"Wow, really?" Warrick straightened as he slid the wrapped present in front of Catherine. He surprised her by saying, "Good for her. I mean, bad for Gris, but Sara deserves to be happy." He checked the room again, lowering his voice to a whisper. "He made her so miserable. I don't know if he could ever make her happy after all that. So," he shrugged, saying in his body language what he couldn't quite articulate.

Catherine nodded, before smiling up at Warrick. "Thanks for the help, 'Rick." She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before gathering her things together. "I've got to go make a call before shift starts."

---------------

Sara noticed the cell phone ringing on her hip, reaching for it and bringing it up to her ear mindlessly, the motions smooth through the years of repetition. "Sidle."

"Sara?" Her voice sounded dead through the static of the phone line. Wherever she was, it didn't seem like her reception was good. "Are you ok?"

"Hey you." Although still weary, her tone softened into something resembling warmth, and Catherine imagined that she was smiling just a little. "Yeah, I'm ok."

"Long night?"

"Night, day, and now night again. I got called into a triple. All kids." Sara's voice told the story that her short recitation didn't: once again, her faith was shaken by the thoughts of what people could inflict on themselves and others, so she had throw herself into the hunt for the killer.

"How long since you've slept?" Sara's silence spoke volumes over the phone. "Sara, how long?"

"36, 40 hours, something like that." Catherine could almost see Sara's death glare forming on her face, defensive and defiant all at the same time. "I'm ok," she said in short, clipped tones, trying to head Catherine off.

"How long before you get DNA results back? 12 hours?"

Sara's sigh of frustration sounded clearly over the static in the line. "More like 18."

"Then you have some time for a nap."

"Catherine...."

"Sara... You know if you are exhausted now, then you will be even worse when you really need the energy. You won't do those dead kids any good if you are too exhausted to see what the evidence is telling you.

"Cath, I'll sleep.."

"In three days? No, now. Lay down for a few hours in your office. Annemarie will get you if anything earth-shattering comes up in the meantime. Please?"

"Um, ok." Her rapid capitulation made Catherine nervous, but her next words reassured her. "You're right. And I'll try to sleep. I promise."

"Good." Catherine tried not to sound too smug, but she knew she didn't succeed when she heard Sara's soft chuckle. "Thanks, hon," she mumbled, her voice rough with exhaustion. Catherine wondered if she even realized she had used the endearment. "Um, Cath, why did you call?"

"Oh, um, I saw Gil.' She let the few words say all that she wasn't. "I thought I'd see how you were doing."

"Oh my god, Gil. I meant to call and leave him a message at his hotel. Wait, what, you saw him?"

"He's back in Vegas."

"I thought he was here." Her voice sounded tired and confused, and Catherine knew that now was not really the time to talk about this.

"Sara, why don't we talk later? I want you to get some rest, ok? "Her mouth curved into a smile as she remembered how cute Sara looked when she was sleepy. "You promised."

"Cath... I kissed him.... I mean I let him kiss me. Right before you called." Her sentences strung together in fits and starts as she tried to get her exhausted brain to make some kind of sense. "It wasn't... I let it happen because it was what I had wanted for so long, but it wasn't... It wasn't what I wanted." Catherine's silence on the line scared her, and she kept talking. "Even before you called, I was going to..."

Catherine's quiet words cut off her rambling words. "I know."

"You do?"

"I know, honey. Now get some sleep and call me when you have time."

"Cath?" Sara calling her name stopped her from hanging up the phone as Sara stumbled over her words. "I, um, miss our pillow talk."

Catherine's laughter was husky. "I miss more than that."

---------------

"Cuz like a child  
You will never want for love  
Cuz all that I have  
I give to you  
Come and take my hand  
And share your life with me  
Cuz you are my soul  
And I'll always love you"  
- Me'shell Ndegeochello "Loyalty" 


	16. Homecoming

**Homecoming**

Catherine leaned over the snoring body in her bed and nudged gently. "Sara, honey, wake up. The guys will be here soon." The brunette on the bed rolled over with what sounded like a growl, snagging a pillow and covering her face. Hands on her hips, Catherine shot her a mock-glare and tugged on the covers, revealing Sara's half-naked body. "You need to get out of bed,' she commanded as she saw Sara peak out from under the pillow.

"Come get me."

Catherine contemplated the invitation Sara issued before sighing. Nick, Warrick, and Greg were on their way over to see Sara during this, her first trip to Nevada that hadn't been a short, secretive overnight when the two of them were able to synchronize their night's off. Sara was actually there for a three-day vacation, an amazing event in and of itself that had sparked endless break room conversations. Sara and the concept of time off did not come naturally to most people, especially Sara herself, so Catherine was amazed to see her still in bed and determined to stay there. "I think getting caught in bed is a lousy way to tell everyone about us."

"Could be fun." Catherine saw a glint of amusement in Sara's eyes as she peaked out from under the pillow again. Deciding to change her tack, Catherine smirked and shrugged a shoulder. "For a girl who doesn't sleep, you sure are doing a good job of pretending."

Sara's smile as she emerged from under the pillow and covers was playful and she managed to catch Catherine off-guard, wrestling her down onto the bed while Catherine shrieked with laughter. "I had to work a triple and just barely made it to my plane, missy," she said as she tickled Catherine. "And someone didn't allow me any recovery time once I got here. On my vacation might I add." Catherine squirmed under the barrage of Sara's fingers, laughing hysterically, until Nick's voice broke them both apart with a gasp. "Catherine? Sara? Where are you guys?"

Catherine straightened her clothes in the mirror, the death glare she shot at Sara marred by the grin threatening the corners of her mouth. She could see Sara on her knees on the bed in the mirror. She stuck out her tongue and the grin broke all the way through. "Um, coming, Nick."

When she turned, Sara was standing there in just her boxers, her expression one of unrestrained lust. "Not yet," she quipped, pulling Catherine in for a long kiss, sliding her hands up under her shirt. Catherine swatted at her and headed for the door. "Now get dressed and get your ass downstairs."

Nick's expression was puzzled when she got downstairs. "What were you doing? I thought I heard screaming there for a second."

Catherine blushed a little, but she was already heading for the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't see. "Oh, I was trying to get Sara up."

When Sara made it downstairs five minutes later, she paused on the stairs, looking at her old friends gathered around the coffee table, chatting about the night's work, and for a moment, it was like she had never left. Then Greg noticed her standing there and he was up in a second, squeezing her into a bearhug that threatened to knock all the breath from her body. But she returned it enthusiastically, and even gave him a peck on the cheek which made him turn red and bashful.

Greg, for his part, had never seen her look more beautiful, nor so relaxed. She was clad in jeans and a black tank, and her hair was up in a loose ponytail, but she was radiant. Whatever changes that had gone on in her life since she had moved, he thought, they looked good on her. "You look great,' he said as he led her over to the couch, where she got equally enthusiastic hugs from Nick and Warrick.

Settling in between Catherine and Nick on the couch, she basked in the attention from her old friends and let the conversation flow over her, enjoying the warmth of Catherine's thigh pressed against hers. That warmth reminded her of how much had really changed whenever nostalgia threatened to overwhelm her. "So," Greg was saying, "you didn't bring your boy to town with you."

"Huh?"

"You know, the guy you threw Grissom over for. I was kinda hoping to meet him, measure up the competition. Unless," and here he flashed that cheeky smile he was known for, "he was just a figment of your imagination."

Catherine was laughing into her coffee as she watched Sara cock her head and narrow her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line that was slowly stretching into a self-deprecating smile. "A figment of your imagination, maybe, but not mine. I always knew there was no new guy." She emphasized the last two words, to see if anyone would catch the hint, her face twisted into the classic 'I've-got-a-secret' expression. Catherine chuckled a little at that, enjoying the puzzled looks on her co-workers' faces.

"So an old guy? Or a guy you've known for a long time?" Greg reasoned thoughtfully.

Nick caught the last part and looked horrified, "Hank? Not Hank?" Hank had, after all, keyed in all of his big-brother protectiveness when he had heard about how he had treated her. She shook her head emphatically, and he settled back down in his chair in relief.

Warrick, meanwhile, was studying both the women on the couch, seeing how amused Catherine was at the guessing game and how close Sara sat by her, when he felt his jaw drop. He recovered quickly, and shook his head, chuckling as if he had just heard the best joke ever.

Greg and Nick looked at him. "You figured it out!" Greg exclaimed. "Tell me."

Still chuckling, Warrick shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you if you can't see what's right in front of you." Noting Sara's apprehensive expression, he assured her, "That's great." She matched his smile and caught Catherine's hand, interlacing their fingers. Greg's eyes widened when he saw that, but then he shook his head in disbelief. "No way. There's no way I'm going to believe Sara and Catherine are... together. No way. That's just mean."

Nick sat in stunned silence as he took in the joined hands, the matching smiles, and the shy way Sara tried to meet his eyes while Greg continued with his protestations. All he found to say was, "Wow."

When Greg finally quieted after asserting that he wouldn't believe it until he saw further proof, Sara grew uncomfortable with all the stares and hopped up to get more coffee for everyone. Finding the coffee pot empty, she started another brewing as Nick wandered in. He pulled her into a wordless hug before pulling back to see her face and ask, "Are you happy?"

"Estastic," she assured him.

"Good." That's how Catherine found them, grinning at each other like fools while the coffee brewed behind them.

"How long does it take to get more coffee?" she teased, walking up so she was leaning on the counter beside Sara.

"It's gotta brew," Sara grumped while sliding her arm around the smaller blonde's waist and pulling her closer. Sara had never been very physically expressive with anyone, he knew, and for her a light touch on the shoulder was considered major PDA, so he marveled at the easy way she and Catherine fit together. Wow, he thought again, wow.

--------------

Sara raised her hand two times before she finally found the nerve to knock on the door. Shifting from foot to foot, she tried not to hope that he was not home, although she knew he was because his SUV was in the drive, or asleep, so she wouldn't have to have the conversation she knew she needed to have with him. When Grissom opened the door, a cup of coffee in one hand, Sara knew she was out of luck. He invited her in, offered her coffee, and got them settled on the couch. They had managed to work past the moment in San Francisco and were working on their rebuilding the strong friendship that had brought her to Vegas and the loss of which had sent her away. They now spoke on the phone at least once a week, ranging from bugs to bodies to management techniques to movies. The only thing that hadn't come up was her relationship.

"So, I, um, have something I need to tell you," she began, biting the bullet and leaping in, as she always did, as she toyed with the cup in her hands. "I waited to tell you because I wanted to tell you in person, and well, it's about the hit the rumor mill, so I have to tell you now." His eyes flicked to her hand, and she realized he was looking for an engagement ring. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she met his eyes. "It's about my... partner." She winced at the word, hating it, wishing there was something better. "Gil, I've been seeing Catherine." Watching his face carefully, she braced for the explosion.

"Catherine." If Nick had been shocked, then there were no words for how stunned Grissom looked, Sara realized, as he tried to wrap his mind around what she had just told him. "All this time? Catherine?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, still waiting for an outburst. She saw him struggle, but then the neutral, controlled expression snapped into place, and he gazed at her with emotionless eyes. For once, she was happy with his way of repressing his emotions; after all, there was no way she could make this better for him since she was the one hurting him, and any emotion would have made her try anyway, causing him more pain. "Well, thanks for telling me," he replied. "I wouldn't have wanted to have heard through the grapevine."

She nodded. "I didn't want that either." He then preceded to show her an article they had discussed during their last phone call, some of the awkwardness returning, before she made some excuse to cut the visit short. Saying goodbye to him on the doorstep, she gave him a friendly hug that he surprised her by returning, and walked off, knowing his eyes were on her the whole way.

-----------

He surprised her again by showing up at the celebration dinner Warrick arranged the next night. Catherine had talked her into wearing the leather outfit she had worn months ago for their dinner, and she wore the same dress, and the stares they got walking into the casino holding hands were nothing compared to Greg's jaw dropping when he saw them. "Trying to catch flies, Greg?" Catherine purred as they joined their friends. She was enjoying the stir they were causing, and even Sara, who hated to be the center of attention, had her cocky smile plastered on her face as she slid an arm around Catherine's waist.

Dinner went well, and they ended up at a club afterwards. Warrick got Catherine out of the dance floor, and Nick and Greg had followed, leaving Sara and Gil alone in the booth. She snuck glances at him as he stared impassively at the dance floor, deliberately not making eye contact with her, she was sure. "Are you ok with this?" she asked finally, the quiet getting to her.

He broke out of his reverie to smile at her, a little sadly, but a smile nonetheless. "It'll take some getting used to, my two best friends, um, involved, but yes." He answered her questioning look with another smile. "I lost you a long time ago. I've learned to accept that. And I'm glad you are happy."

Catherine broke from the crowd then, and appeared at the booth to drag them both onto the dance floor, where Gil managed to shuffle to a song long enough to satisfy her before retreating back to the table, where Warrick was taking a breather. Warrick watched in admiration as the two women matched rhythms, soon drawing a crowd of appreciative, and male, on-lookers. They seem oblivious to the crowd, and when Sara did look up and notice the crowd, she surprised Warrick by dancing even closer to the smaller woman, her wicked smile matching Catherine's exactly.

------------

"Mmmm, I love it when you wear a dress," Sara purred as she slid her hands up under the sheer fabric, pressing Catherine back against the door bodily. Dancing had driven her wild, and in the ten minutes since they had gotten home, they had made it no further than the front door. Catherine's fingers were hooked around her belt, holding her close as she tried to reach Sara's sensitive ears.

"Do you remember the first time I wore this dress," she whispered as she got close, loving the shiver of anticipation that ran through Sara's body. Sara's breathy 'yes' was almost lost in the moan as Catherine nipped at her earlobe, her eyes closing and hands stilling as Catherine licked the sensitive flesh and blew softly. Sara bit her lip as Catherine kept up the torture, tightening her grip on Catherine's waist as Catherine's tongue slowly drove her crazy.

"I wanted to do this that night," Catherine teased as she slid her hands up beneath the skin-tight vest, wiggling and pushing so her hands slid over the smooth skin of Sara's stomach and ribcage, causing the lower button on the vest to snap. Sara leaned her whole weight into the smaller woman as her knees weakened under the barrage of Catherine's hands and mouth, her tongue working in rhythm with her fingers. "Cath...."

Three more snaps and the vest was open for Catherine's roving hands, hands soon replaced as she kissed her way down Sara's neck and collarbone. Sara braced her hands against the edges of the doorframe, helpless under Catherine's expert manipulation of her body. When Catherine's hands dipped lower, sliding down between the belt buckle and her twitching stomach, she felt rather than saw Catherine's smug smile. Knowing she had lost this round, she surrendered and let Catherine work her magic.

Later, in bed, after Sara had exacted her revenge, she stroked the blonde hair away from Catherine's face and pressed a delicate kiss on her forehead. "I love you, kit-kat," she whispered.


	17. Epilogue

AN: Ok, this is it. This started to drag toward the end, so thanks for keeping with the story. I have a couple of other fics I want to develop, so it's time to put this one to bed.

_I steal a glance at you  
And save it up for later  
You see what I've come to  
I really should know better  
But I can't help myself  
Help myself  
I'm lost in you_  
-Julie Fordham, "I Can't Help Myself"**Epilogue **

Catherine watched as the movers carried the last few boxes out of the now-empty house; it amazed her to think that a year ago, she had left with Grissom to go to San Francisco for an overnight trip and now she was moving there for good. In the end, it hadn't been a difficult decision. Lindsey had fallen in love with the Bay area, and Sara had already promised to buy her a surfboard and teach her to surf. When the dayshift supervisor position had opened up, Captain Harris had offered her the job that very afternoon. When it became apparent that LVPD wasn't going to counter the offer or try to increase her possibility for promotion, the decision was made. In the ensuing two months, Sara had found a larger house in one of the historic districts and managed to close without telling Catherine; Catherine could still remember her huge smile as she stood there, the sunlight streaming through the dusty windows in the living room, lighting her auburn hair and warming the dark wood floors, as she told Catherine the place was theirs. Lindsey was upstairs, picking out a bedroom, while Catherine gazed at Sara with amazement.

And just when she thought that Sara had run out of ways to surprise her, she had sent Lindsey a picture of a labrador retriever puppy that they were adopting as soon as they arrived. So Catherine stopped waiting in anticipation and just basked in the warmth that was Sara Sidle in love. Never had she expected how open and easy Sara was in the relationship, but she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Looking back, she realized that Sara's job had been the outlet for her empathic and giving nature since she had been denied other outlets. Sure, there were still arguments and all-out fights -neither of them had lost the stubborn and competitive parts of their personalities, after all- she thought as she remembered one historic blow-up over the idea of a commitment ceremony, but they were surprising good for each other.

Catherine was startled out of her musings as she stood in the empty living room by strong arms encircling her waist and a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "We're going to be late to dinner," Sara whispered in her ear. "Lindsey's already in the car, complaining about being hungry." Catherine smiled; dinner with their friends from the lab, then a leisurely drive up the California coast in a certain red convertible to her new home. "I'm ready," she said.


End file.
